


Bet On It

by kirakii



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF!Marinette, Drug Use, F/M, Mentions of past sexual assault, Mutual Pining, Recreational Drug Use, Slow burn...sorta, gambling au, mentions of sex/sexual situations, more angst than originally planned but no turning back now, no magic, nothing explicit however, slight luka and marinette, swearing but not aggressively
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:01:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 30,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24207895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kirakii/pseuds/kirakii
Summary: Marinette plays at the goodie two shoes act when she is at school and around those who she is afraid would judge her if she wasn't. In reality she is a compulsive gambler with a habit of bad behavior and self sabotage. On the other hand, Adrien is exactly who he appears to be, but that soon is becoming stifling and too much for him.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Alya Césaire/Nino Lahiffe, Chloé Bourgeois/Kagami Tsurugi, Plagg/Tikki (Miraculous Ladybug)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 49





	1. High Card

She lowered her skylight closed behind, letting it fall silently in place. The balcony a familiar scene; plants and flowers overflowed from their clay pots. Fairy lights twisted along the railing, adding a little light to the soft glow the half moon cast. The Paris skyline surrounded her, as beautiful as everytime she had ever seen it from her balcony. Marinette leaned against the rail, checking the time against her watch. 

The game would start in forty five minutes. If she was late for even a second, they wouldn’t let her even have a seat at the table. She checked the small pink purse by her hip, checking it held everything she needed.

It snapped close against her fingers. The soft pads of her fingertips pinched between the clasp. She gasped, bringing her finger to her mouth.Marinette backed away from the railing until her back hit the other rail. Her feet moved beneath as she broke out into a sprint. She vaulted herself over the rail, keeping the momentum until her feet hit the next rooftop and she rolled. Careful not to have her ankles or knees give out beneath her. Rooftops changed beneath her when she threw herself onto the next and the next after that. 

The cool Parisian night bitterly kissed the exposed skin on her face. After a half hour of parkouring across various roofs, she came to the one that she needed. 

Her lungs ached against the cool night. The muscles in her thighs burned at the extensive exhaustion. Crouched on the ground, she rubbed her fists into the tops of her legs, massaging the stiffness out of them. She dug around in her bag, pulling out a mask that covered the top half of her face. It was spotted black on the red surface from halfway down her forehead to the tip of her nose. The mask hugged her face when she tied the strings behind her head in a knot. 

Her attention pulled to the squeaking open door that would give her access to the rest of the building.

“You’re late.” Tikki glared. “Get in here.” 

“Good to see you too.” She slid past the other petite girl. Tikki closed the door behind them, locking it with the key on the string around her neck. 

“Sorry. You worried me and I thought you weren’t going to show.” 

She flashed one of signature innocuous smiles, “I told you I was coming. There was no way in hell I was going to miss out on tonight.” 

“I should have known.” Tikki gave her a less than savory grin. 

Her brown skin hummed beneath the fluorescent lights. The duo descented the maintenance stairway. Tikki’s usual dark hair had been dyed a firetruck red, cut close to her chin in unruly coils. Her dark eyes devoured all the light. As if it couldn’t escape the dark whirlpools in her irises. 

At the bottom of the stair, they approached a white painted steel door. The paint chipped beneath the harsh fluorescence of the artificial lights above her head. Marinette pressed her back to the narrow stair, allowing Tikki to pass by her. She unlocked the door and headed inside. Marinette close on her heels. 

The scent of stale, smoked weed and hookah hit her senses. A slight accent of incense to hide the stench overpowered by the other cacophony of smells. The lights changed into less aggressive LEDs as concrete was replaced with black wood in the main room of the underground speakeasy. 

People gathered in circles around low black leather couches or high bar tables, sipping on drinks. Some laid in piles along pillows in the far corners, high or drunk or both. They paid her no mind even with the mask on her face.

Tikki led her to the bar, taking up her normal spot behind it. Stilettos clicked sharply against the wood. Even with the heels, Tikki only came to Marinette’s height. The tight black dress hugged her curves, with a plunging deep neckline that showed the valley between her small breasts. Her painted thumb nail plied the coke can tab open, pulling it over a glass of ice. She added a shot and a half of white rum and set it down on the bar. 

The bar was one of those holographic ones, with an ombre tabletop that went from a soft pinkish red to pitch black. A sense of familiarity fluttered along her chest. Marinette grabbed the drink, taking a long, slow sip. The taste of rum almost negated by the crisp carbonation and acidic taste of the soda. A warmth settled in her belly.

“Thanks Tikki,” Marinette began to pull a twenty out of her purse.

Tikki shook her head, “On the house, honey. I know that it isn’t a high risk game, but you came because I asked you. Least I can do is get you a free drink.” 

“I would’ve come anyways. I’m itching to play. I feel like I haven’t been back in ages. With midterms and helping around the bakery, you know how it is.”

The door opened to the side of the bar, “Sugarcube, the game is about ready, you and your girl ready?” 

Marinette couldn’t see the man in the doorway, as his face was obscured by shadow. 

“I’m not playing tonight. Someone has to man the bar. Ladybug is here, though.” Tikki couldn’t stop the small smile that spread on her red painted lips. “If you don’t treat her well, Plagg, you’re dead, you know that.” 

“As long as she’s got the buy-in, I’ll treat her like my sugarcube asks.” 

Marinette walked up to Plagg, a smirk coasting her mouth. “Oh, I’ve got the cash. Now if you get to keep it, that’s another question. And from where I’m standing doesn’t seem all that plausible.” 

“House always wins, Ladybug,” 

“We’ll see about that.” Marinette slid past him. 

She heard Plagg chuckle, telling Tikki, “I’ve always been amused by your friends. You know that. Especially her. Every time she is here, Ladybug never disappoints or fails to entertain.”

“And she takes everyone’s money.” 

The darkened hallway opened up to a shadowy parlor. Multiple card tables, roulette and craps boards scattered around the room. Each far enough away to not catch sight of another table’s cards. A way to make sure no partner could help a player cheat. 

Marinette took a seat at the large round table in the center. One without a dealer. She noticed the attention that stuck to her body. That hung around her face, trying to catch her identity beneath the blakc and red. The ripped dark jeans hugged her muscular thighs, red fishnets peaking through the large slashes in the denin. She shucked off her black hoodie, exposing her shoulders and bare back to more eyes. The red and black race stripe halter top hugged her. As the only young woman at most of these games, this wasn’t her first time she noticed their lusting gazes. Most of the time she dressed in a way that kept their eyes on her. Because if their eyes were stuck on her that meant they were paying the necessary attention to their cards. And she would admit that she liked to hold attention more than she did in her everyday life.

“Sweetheart, I’m sure you must’ve accidently stumbled in here. I’m sure the dealer will gladly help you find your way back out.” An older man caught her attention. He reminded her of a pig, with a stout frame and sharply upturned nose. His mask was gold with extravagant filigree. He wore a two piece suit. A shash like chain ran from both lapels. “I don’t think you want to be here.”

Marinette tapped her mask with her index finger, “You don’t need to worry about me. I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.” 

“You can’t expect me to believe a young lady like you actually is able to play this game. This isn’t for shits and giggles.” 

Her soft smile turned to a sneer. She would be taking everything he brought with him first. “Are you really that afraid to lose everything to a little girl such as myself. That would make it seem like you aren’t able to play this game. If you want to fold now that might be the best decision.” 

“I won't let a little girl like you try to bluff me out of the game,” he growled. 

Only Marinette wasn’t bluffing. No one would know if she did, though. Plagg settled at the head of the table. Four decks of unopened cards to his left. He ripped off the plastic around the first desk before shuffling the cards. 

“Everyone places their buy-ins as their first bet.” He wore a simple black mask over his dark skin. The soft light caught his radioactive green eyes. “A simple game of five card draw.” 

Plagg didn’t ask if anyone didn’t know how to play. 

You wouldn’t be at that table if you didn’t know how to play. You wouldn’t have been let through the door if you hadn’t proven to the house that you knew your shit.

The three others placed their stacks of cash in front of them. Marinette placed her own thousand and five hundred dollars down on the table. The five hundred went straight into the house’s coffers while the rest became playable money. When that thousand was up you were out of the game. No more money could be added. Easy. Simple. Plagg handed each of them a stack of chips. White, blue, red, and black. 10, 50, 100, 500 dollars in those increments. Marinette hummed to herself when the cards landed before her. Five in total. She kept them close to the table as she looked at the suit and number. Three spades and two red cards. No pairs, nothing close to a straight. 

Pigman threw his cards in first, three of them. Plagg dealt him three new cards. Next to him, a man dressed in a navy blue mask, threw in a single card. He got a new one in return.  
Marinette’s choice next. The numbers, percentages, and outcomes rolled through head. There was no way of knowing what the previous two men had thrown and gotten, no way to see how that could have predicted the probability. 

She threw away the two red cards, Plagg giving her two new cards. Marinette didn’t look at them. The man to her left went next, throwing in her entire hand. Either he had shit cards or was an idiot. You never threw your whole hand unless you really had nothing left. And they still were each at a thousand dollars. His mask was silver, an elegant balance to Pigman.

They each bet on their hands. Check, bet, call, or fold. Marinette bet two hundred dollar chips, sliding them to the center of the table beneath two fingers. Blue called. Silver called. Pigman folded. Plagg demanded that they showed their cards. Blue took it. Two pairs that topped Marinette’s one pair. Pigman suppressed a giggle behind his knuckle. The night continued like that. Marinette lost multiple hands in a row. Only winning back small pots. Until almost all her money had been won by the other players.  
Marinette leaned back in her chair. No stiffness in her spine or tightness in her face. Her stomach settled and light. She almost thought about seeing if Tikki could spare her another free drink. 

She caught Plagg’s green eyes as he dealt the last hand of the night. Marinette looked at the five cards given her and frowned. As the choice to discard and draw came to her, she ignored it.  
“This isn’t looking so good,” she muttered under her breath. Marinette caught Pigman’s smirk, thinking that he was lucky to hear her complain openly about her hand. “Give me all fresh ones, please.” 

She tossed the entire hand at Plagg. Marinette side eyed Pigman as he played with the chain to his lapel. Blue flicked his nail under the top of his cards. Silver whisked away the sweat on the top of his lip with his tongue. Plagg dealt her five new cards. Her stomach turned over itself, but she kept her face placid.  
It’s time. Marinette held back the smirk that tugged at her mouth, schooling her features into complacency. 

When Silver ended his turn, Pigman went all in. Blue followed suit. Silver called. Marinette shrugged, hoping her body language read like ‘why not? I have nothing left really’. And she went all in.

Everyone showed their hands to Plagg. The dealer clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. 

“The winner is Ladybug with a four of a kind. Sixes.” 

Pigman’s jaw dropped to the floor. Silver blew a heavy breath through his mouth. Blue only shook his head in defeat. Pigman spat, “That should be impossible. No way someone could draw a four of kind out of nothing.” Pigman slammed his fist on the table. “It was stacked.” 

“Are you calling me a cheater, sir?” Marinette flashed him an award winning smile. “I didn’t even touch the deck. So, that means you’re calling Plagg and his establishment cheaters. I don’t think that they would take kindly to that.” 

Plagg cracked his knuckles, rolling his neck with satisfying pops, “The Miracle Box doesn’t cheat on our games. I would appreciate it if you didn’t spit that slander around here. Take your loss and get the fuck out before I make you leave. You don’t want me to make you leave.” 

Marinette stood, “Give my winnings to Tikki. She’ll make sure it gets to me.” She leaned down to where Pigman sat. Her mouth close enough to his ear so that only he could hear her. “I told you to fold before we even began, didn’t I? And I tossed away all those good hands just to see this happen. I thought taking all your money right away would have been fun, but this was much more satisfying, waiting until you got so confident that it was like taking candy from a baby.” 

He reached to grab Marinette, but she twirled out of his grasp like she hadn’t even noticed him making a move for her. Pigman moved to lounge after her, but Plagg grabbed him by the collar of his suit. 

“You know better than to attack other patrons.” Plagg snarled. “Get. Out.” He threw him on the ground and collected the chips, taking everyones chips and placing them in a bag. Blue and Silver disappeared before Pigman’s last outburst. Pigman scurried out of the parlor. His curly-q tail tucked between his stubby legs. He looked back at Marinette and shot her a glare. One that's probably more intimidating when you weren’t crawling on your hands and knees. 

A hand wrapped around Marinette’s shoulders. “You’re so fucking lucky, Ladybug. I wouldn’t have even tried to play as risky as you did tonight. Fun to watch, though.” Tikki laughed. 

Plagg wrapped his muscled arms around Tikki’s waist, scoping her into his arms and against his chest. “Can you believe that final hand, sugarcube? I thought for sure I would see your little Ladybug’s first big loss. Boy, was I surprised when she pulled it through. Hah, you have a good eye for the fun ones. Wanna stay for another drink, Ladybug? On the house.” 

“How can I say no?”

Marinette settled across from Plagg and Tikki in one of the leather booths. Tikki curled into his side, head resting along his chest. She spun her drink with a painted finger. Marinette sipped on her drink. Plagg took a pack of cigarettes out of his breast pocket and lit up with a lighter inside the cardboard package. He offered one to Tikki, who shook her head, and one to Marinette, who gladly accepted. 

“I thought there was a no cigarette or vape smoke indoors rule?”

“When you own the place, you make the rules. And I had fun watching you play tonight, LB. You know, I saw the cards you threw, you kept throwing cards that could’ve possibly won more hands than you dared take.” 

“I wanted to get them complacent with me.” She smirked deviously. The smoke settled in her lungs. “It makes it more fun when you crush their dreams. Also makes it easier to pinpoint their tells. Also, isn’t the dealer not supposed to look at the thrown away cards? It would lead to you being able to count the cards too easily.” 

“I didn’t have a hand to play and no one was paying attention to me. You make me want to get a protege of my own. Tikki seems to have taken a liking to you. Made sure to teach you well.”

“She learned from the best. But to be honest she was already excellent when I found playing low stakes games. Can read people better than almost anyone I’ve seen and understand the numbers too.” Tikki shot her a conspiratorial grin. “If you got a cute little protege then maybe Ladybug wouldn’t have to sit alone on that side of the table.” 

“Please, leave the matchmaking to my other friends. I already get enough of it.” She sighed into the empty class. Her head was empty of thoughts and fuzzy. “And there is only one boy that has my eye anyways. And he only sees me as a friend. It's been that way for the past four years.”

“Too bad for him. Must be a real fucking idiot.” Plagg smirked. 

“He is not!” Marinette said defensively. She took a long drag on the cigarette.

Tikki tapped her hand and cupped Plagg’s cheek with the other, “Too late to argue. I’m sleepy and want to get to bed before dawn this time.” 

Marinette looked at her watch, “It can’t be that late already. The game only started at midnight.”

“Time flies when you’re having fun.” 

She burst to her feet, “I have to get going. I have class in the morning. At this rate I’ll sleep through my alarm again and get lectured about it. Plagg do you think you could give me a ride home? I don’t really think I should be jumping across rooftops buzzed and Tikki is half asleep.” 

“Sure, Ladybug. If I didn’t get you home safely I would be kicked out of bed and on the couch.” 

Plagg led her down another set of stairs to the underground parking lot beneath the warehouse. Marinette spotted the black mercedes convertible. She settled into the passenger seat, running her hand along with the familiar black and green accented interior. Plagg pulled out of the garage at full speed, skidding onto the Paris street.  


Marinette whooped. A sucker for a good joyride. The wind traveled along her skin with the roof tucked away. Her hair ripped out of pig tails. She looked up into the dark Parisian sky, wishing the light pollution hadn’t killed most of the stargazing. The street lights blurred by in a mixture of red, yellow, white, and green. 

Plagg pulled up to her parents’ bakery in record time. “Good haul tonight.” He slid a stack of cash over to her, wrapped in stacks. Four thousand dollars. He took a joint out from the center console of the car and handed it to her.

She took the cash and tucked the rolled joint into her purse, “Thanks. Get back safe. And thanks for the weed. If I wasn’t already this close to crashing it would’ve felt good.” 

“Enjoy, Marinette.” Plagg flashed her his white smile. “Sorry, Ladybug.” 

“No worries. We aren’t at the Miracle Box anymore. It’s a silly nickname anyways. Night.” 

Marinette slammed the car door behind her, entering the bakery through the side alley entrance. She tiptoed up to her attic bedroom. Her parents slumbering forms tucked away in their bedroom. Once she collapsed onto her bed, she kicked off her shoes and shimmied out of the tight jeans. They slid down her narrow hips and slender thighs. She tossed off the halter top, digging around in her dirty clothes hamper for the oversized t-shirt she had in mind. 

In the back of her closet, behind a couple bolts of fabric and a clothes hamper, sat a miniature safe. She typed in the code and the door popped open. The four thousand dollars found a home with the other stacks of cash, an old jam jar with a baggy of weed inside, grinder, rose quartz pipe, and her diary. 

With her goodies locked safely away, she curled back into bed. The pink duvet settled heavy against her tired body. A cocoon of warmth, lolling her body into a quiet.  
Marinette barely remembered to set her alarm before her eyes fell shut and she drifted off into sleep.


	2. One Pair

Camera lights flashed, adding brightness to his golden skin. His hair brushed back and out of his eyes with one strand hanging along the bridge of his nose. He leaned forward on the solid oak desk. Fingers dipped beneath the collar of his silk dress shirt, tugging at it and loosening the navy tie. He tossed the jacket over his shoulder. The slate grey vest clung to his sides. A golden ‘Gabriel G’ embroidered into the breast. A modelesq grin played at his lips as he took a seat on the prop desk. He crossed his leg, resting his foot on the grey, straight lined dress slacks covering his knee. He rested his head on his hands. Head cocked to the side like a devilish cat with a smirk tugging at the sides of his mouth. 

“Good. Good. Just like that, Adrien.” The shoot director said. He yelled something in Italian at the photographer that Adrien missed. “Now roll the sleeves of your shirt up and stretch out.”

He did as asked of him, fingering the golden chain that connected to the middle button of the vest. Adrien took the pocket watch out of the pocket, dangling it up by the chain to show the cursive ‘G’ on the watch’s casing. He tried to make his gaze menacing, like a boss angry at his late employee. The director hadn’t told him to stop, so it must have looked good enough.   
They took a couple shots of the suit jacket hanging off his shoulders. It focused on the darts in the back of his slack pants and the straight cut of the coat. Adrian stared at the large green screen behind. Where he assumed they would have a computer generate large floor to ceiling windows for him to look out of. Having the actual windows would have caused too much natural, uncontrollable light to filter into the studio. 

Adrien wished he didn’t have to stare at a blank wall. He schooled his features into a look of cool dissonance instead of the frown that threatened to show itself. That wouldn't make a good picture. He didn’t want to waste anymore time than he had to on the shoot. Adrien ignored the urge to fidget his hand or worry the inside of his cheek. 

He was ushered off the studio floor and out of the three piece suit. Adrien changed into wide legged red corduroy pants that cuff at his ankle. A white dress shirt buttoned to the second button below his chin. Red Gabriel hightops replaced the slick dress shoes. A large ‘G’ on the outside of them. The hair stylist shook his hair free, pinching and running her fat fingers through his blond hair with purpose. She grinned at him in the mirror showing the single gap between her two front teeth. 

The makeup artist touched up his makeup, adding a new layer of the nude lipstick. Running a skin tone eyeliner along his lids as he fluttered his eyes closed. Simple silver rings hugged his earlobe and matching silver wire rimmed circle glasses were placed over his nose. 

Adrien eyed himself in the mirror. He looked more like the assistant than he did the CEO he played at before. His father made him play all his bases. And he played them well.   
The glasses on his nose lacked lenses, meaning they wouldn’t catch the glare of the light or make it hard for him to see. ‘Gabriel’ ran along the slender sides of them before disappearing into his moused blond hair. The studio looked similar, more props added for Adrien to interact with. The photographer and the shoot director gave him instructions on what to touch, how to pose, what face he should make as he played the role assigned to him.

He played the role of a fretting, attractive assistant on the studio stage. The role of the clumsy newbie. And that of the confident, stoic right hand. The idea of Natalie came to mind. Adrien hoped that she would be proud of his imitation of his father’s assistant.   
The shoot couldn’t be over faster. When the shoot director and the site manager called the end of the day, Adrien felt the tension in his body release. He sunk into the chair in the changing room. His head hung heavy from his broad shoulders. He ran a hand from his hair, trying to pull his bangs from his eyes. His fingers came back sticky with gel and spray. Adrien would have begged for a shower to wash the stiff product from his hair and clean the makeup from his pores. 

He changed into his normal clothes; dark jeans slung at his hips with a graphic tee underneath a long sleeve flannel. Nothing designer or Gabriel branded. Adrien pulled his phone from his backpack, reading through the missed messages. He ignored the ones from Lila and Chloe. Not in the mood to deal with one's sugary lies and the other’s natural bitch temperament. He promised himself he would respond to Chloe when he had the emotional energy to deal with whatever she wanted to rant about.   
Nino: Dude, you aren’t gonna believe this. I got a set at a local club this weekend.   
Nino: They are actually letting me play. Can you fucking believe this?  
Nino: I was hoping you’d be able to make it out of the hole this weekend to come see me play. It wouldn’t feel right without my best bud.  
Nino: It’s saturday night at 1 am.   
Adrien thought it over. He weighed the risks and measures he would need to sneak out Saturday night. It was late enough that his father and Natalie would be asleep. And it was Nino’s first real gig. After almost four years of mixing for their friends’ parties and birthdays he was getting his first chance to play for people without nepotism.   
Adrien: No way I’m going to miss out on this. I’ll be there!  
Adrien placed his phone back in his back pocket of jeans and gathered his stuff. He climbed into the silver luxury sedan that waited for him outside the studio. He itched to get home and into the shower. He relaxed into the familiar leather as the car pulled out of the parking lot and onto the road. His phone buzzed into the seat beneath him.   
Nino: fuck yes, man. This is going to be the greatest night of my life ever.  
Adrien: Even better than your first time with Alya?  
He chuckled at his own remark. And at Nino’s response.  
Nino: Yes. Just barely. Don’t tell her that tho. She’ll have my balls for saying that.  
Adrien: Will she be coming too?  
Nino: Of course, dude. I couldn’t play this without my girl.   
Nino: Don’t worry you won’t be a third wheel. She also somehow convinced Marinette to come watch me play too.   
Adrien: I never would’ve pictured her going to a club that late on a saturday night.  
Nino: Alya works miracles sometimes. 

Adrien sank into his seat in the classroom. The wooden pew cool beneath him. He was one of the first people to arrive in the room. Nathaniel kept his head down in the back. Eyes glued to the sketch book beneath him. A regular Thursday. 

He heard Nino’s voice, followed by the heavy, gut consuming laugh of Alya. They entered the classroom. Alya’s back to the room as she walked up the stairs beside the stadium style sitting in the classroom. She kept a well trained eye on her boyfriend, feeling each wide step before taking the step behind her. Alya looked around her quickly, whipping her head back and forth. Her mouth connected with the boy in front of hers for a chaste, momentary kiss. Nino’s dark skin warmed under a blush as he kept the creamed coffee skinned girl in view. His baseball cap pulled low over his forehead, skimming across his dark rimmed glasses. 

Nino took his seat next to Adrien, turning back to face Alya. His eyes softened as they caught her again. Adrien could feel the love radiating off him in waves. The way his gaze could see nothing but the ruddy brown haired girl. 

“Can you two be anymore sickly sweet?” Adrien stuck his tongue out and crumpled his face in mock disgust.

“You just are jealous that you don’t get all this loving, sunshine.” Alya turned her fierce eyes to him. “Any one would be so I can’t blame you. Too bad for you, pretty boy. No one here is looking your way with that kind of love.” 

“Ouch, you wound me, Alya.” He feigned being shot. Hands clasped to his chest. “My sensitive heart can’t take anymore rejection.” 

“Dude, seriously, how was your week? You’ve been at shoots all week and haven’t been in class.” Nino leaned his head into his hand.  
“Same old same old. Nothing too exciting. Now give me the details on that gig this weekend.” 

Nino opened his mouth to respond, but Alya cut him off, “It’s at club Roulette. Nino had been sending his stuff around to all the nightclubs in Paris that would be interested in his sound. I had heard of this place from my older sister, and she claimed that the DJs there played the similar shit that matched the sound that Nino is going for. I reached out to them, but that was months ago. It seems that they had someone drop out suddenly and the manager heard the demo I sent them when none of their usuals could fill in. So, they called me the other night when I was Nino and I put the call on speaker. He practically pissed himself--”

“Did not.”

Alya placed her finger to her lips. The universal sign to shut up. “Please don’t interrupt, babe. As I was saying, they offered Nino the time slot from 1 until 2:30. We could hardly believe it. I never thought that such a popular indie nightclub would actually get back to us. Let alone actually let him play.”

“You have such faith in me, babe.” Nino rolled his dark eyes. 

“I believe in you more than anyone. You know that. I’m gonna stick by your side no matter what. Just like I have for the past three and a half years. Anyways, I’ve been meaning to take Marinette out to a club for once. She always turns me down. And I’ve been asking since we turned sixteen! I can’t wait to get all dressed up and dance with her.” 

“Maybe I won’t be you and Nino’s third wheel, but you and Marinette’s.” Adrien chuckled.

“Most definitely, sunshine.” Alya grinned. A mischievous smirk in her eye as she winked. 

The trio returned their attention to the front of the class as the teacher arrived. Adrien thought to the empty seat behind him. Nothing out of ordinary or disrupting the usual morning. His last year of secondary school seemed to be going by in a blur. Soon enough he would be standing beside his friends as they graduated. His pens scraped against his notebook as he followed the lecture.

The door to the classroom bust open about halfway through the class. Marinette tumbled to a halt in the doorway. Her slender chest heaved as she bowed low in an apology.   
She muttered a quick ‘sorry’ under her breath as she made her way to her seat beside Alya. She wore black joggers that hugged her waist beneath her navel, tight cuffs at her ankles. A deep honeyed yellow cotton t-shirt was knotted to the side, showing the taut planes of her stomach, and hung loosely off one of her delicate shoulders. Her dark hair piled haphazardly on top of her head. 

Marinette sank against Alya’s shoulder. “Overslept again?” Alya patted her shoulder. “One of these days you're gonna sleep through all of your classes.”

“Don’t tempt me. I wish I was back in bed right now. I was barely conscious enough to throw this on.” 

“You sure those aren’t just the clothes you slept in? Because it looks like it. Your hair is a fucking mess.” 

“Not telling.”

Adrien heard her deep, bone rattling sigh. Part of him itched to ask what had kept her up, but the other part knew better than to try to talk to her in the middle of class. She would already get another lecture from the teacher about her tardiness. He tried to imagine what had kept the girl up all night. His first thought being that Marinette must’ve been working on a new design. Adrien knew she got her best ideas in the middle of the night. Or maybe she was bringing one of her designs to life and lost track of time. Maybe someone had visited her in the late night and kept her up all night. Someone who had kept her all to themselves. To their hands and mouth and tongues and teeth.

The bell rang, pulling him from his thoughts. Adrien’s face heated up as he gathered his materials. He shook his head, trying to physically shove the dirty thoughts from his mind. This was Marinette he was thinking about. His innocent, precious friend.

“Hey, Adrien?” Marinette caught his eye as she stood before him. She still wasn’t as tall as him, even on the step above. Had she somehow found out what had run through his mind? Had she figured out he had thought those things towards her? His pulse spiked. Adrien’s stomach dropped to his hightops. “Can I borrow your notes from the beginning of class?”

Adrien released the breath he hadn’t realized he held, “Sure. But why not ask Alya?”

“You know you take the best notes. And anyways I think Alya was among goo-goo eyes at the back of Nino’s head all class.” 

“I did not!” Alya pouted. 

“Ok, I’ll take your word for it.” Marinette gave Adrien a knowing look. A soft grin played on her mouth. 

Adrien followed behind Alya and Marinette, who locked arms with each other, beside Nino. He tried to keep up with the girls’ conversation, but they chatted too fast for him to interject anything. Nino shared a knowing look of pain with him that had Adrien chuckling softly. 

They found a table in the cafeteria together with some of their other friends. Rose waved to get their attention. Her blond head bobbed up and down as her whole body waved with her enthusiasm. Adrien peeled off from the group and headed towards the locker room where he had forgotten his prepared lunch. He dug through the mess of his locker, ignoring the leftover homework assignment sheets and clutter, finding it beneath his gym bag. 

“Saturday? I can’t make it Saturday. I promised some friends that I would go out with them that night.” 

Adrien stilled at the sound of Marinette’s voice. The only sound in the otherwise silent locker room. She must have assumed that she was alone. He thought about popping over to where he assumed she was on the other side of the lockers. 

“I know. I know. I really wish I could be there too. I was just there last night, so I didn’t expect to plan for another night this soon. I had a lot of fun too. No. There’s no way I can skip out on my friends this weekend. It’s really important to them. And in all honesty I really want to go see him play.” 

Adrien continued to listen. He was about to walk away when she heard him talk about last night. Had his imagination not been that far off? 

“Fuck.” Marinette sighed. Adrien inhaled sharply. That was the first time that he had ever heard her swear. “That’s a very tantalizing option. Almost impossible to deny you, but I have to. I’ve already been lying to my friends enough. I can’t skip out on a night out with them. I’ve got to go. They are going to start to wonder why I ran off to, if I stay any longer. Let me know when to plan for next and give me more warning next time.” 

He heard the door shut as she left the locker room. Adrien collapsed against his locker. Only fully breathing when the door clicked closed again. He peeked his head around the other side of the row of lockers to find it sparse of any Marinettes. Adrien returned to the table, refusing to look at the dark haired girl. 

Part of him felt guilty about eavesdropping. Part of him couldn’t deny the curiosity. Part of him reeled at what she said. She had been playing them, lying to them. Marinette had said it herself. His heart jumped to a lump in his throat. He watched her talk and laugh with Alya and Nino. Her eyes alight with unbridled joy and a carefree openness that he recognized as essentially Marinette. When someone had asked why she overslept, that bluebell window to her soul in her eyes slammed closed.   
If Adrien hadn’t overheard her early conversation, he never would have guessed she was lying through her perfect, straight white teeth.


	3. Two Pair

Nino lounged on the white leather couch in Adrien’s bedroom. Mecha Strike’s winning scene played in the background. The controller forgotten by his side. Adrien disappeared into his large walk in closet, digging through the mountains of clothes. 

“Nino, you can’t just wear anything to your first club show,” Adrien yelled from the bellows of the closet. “They probably wouldn’t even let you in the door if you don’t look the part. Let alone the verbal beatdown you would get from our resident fashion designer. Don’t you want to look good to keep the audience’s attention?” 

“I’d hope that the audience payed attention to the music not my fucking clothes.” 

“Well, your ‘fucking clothes’ are going to be your first impression. And just because you have Alya coming, who can barely keep her attention away from you or your music, doesn’t mean anything. You want to be given another gig, right? You won’t if you dress like shit.”

“Of course I want another gig, dude. Hey! Did you say that my normal clothes look like shit?”

“Not usually.” Adrien shrugged as he left the closet. A couple different outfits slung in his arms. “But for a night DJing maybe.” 

He dumped them onto the large bed and began to divide the pieces into different ensembles. “Come take a look and tell me what you think.”

“Fuck, dude. You might actually be an Agreste.” Nino stared down at the three different outfits. “You’ve got a good eye.” 

“Not really. It's not like I could actually design any of this. I can put a couple of things together and hope they don’t look like utter shit.” 

“I think this one would work best with my stage name. I gotta keep it on theme, man. Are you sure that Daddy Agreste will be ok with my taking some of his precious son’s clothes?”

“As long as he doesn’t find out everything will be ok.” 

“Speaking of the bigger Agreste, how did you get him to give you permission to come to a club tonight? I thought he would have a heart attack before he let you go to a seedy club in downtown Paris.” 

“Let’s say that I didn’t exactly ask for permission.” Adrien smirked. 

Nino chuckled, “Dude I would’ve bet my left ball that you were gonna say something like that. The rebellious baby Agreste. Sneaking out to go to a nightclub. I would love to see Gabriel’s face if he ever realized how much you actually sneak out of this place.”

“Let’s hope he never figures it out.”   
Adrien clapped Nino on the shoulder. The two made knowing eye contact before doubling over in laughter. “How’s everything going with Alya?” He asked, settling next to his friend on the couch. They pressed play and picked their characters for the next round of Mecha Strike. 

“She’s doing great. A bit stressed right now about university applications. She’s aiming for this top journalism program in London. I know she’ll get it, but she’s insisting that she’s not good enough for the program.”

“Our Alya? Saying those things? It’s almost impossible to believe. I thought she had a fountain of overflowing confidence in her.” 

“You’d think that. Hah, fuck yeah, dude. Suck it.” Nino pumped his fist as he won the match. “But no one can be like that twenty four seven.” 

He looked over at his best friend. The softness to his gaze and the worry that could be seen in his brown eyes, “You really love her, don’t you?”

“I think I’ve loved her all my life. That’s what it feels like sometimes. Like I was made for her and she was for me. I can’t imagine everything happening the way it did without her. Even before I knew her, or when I had a crush on Marinette, I think it was just destined.” 

“I never knew you to be a cheesy bastard.” He chuckled. “You sound like a romance movie.” 

“Maybe you should try to sometime. Being in love is pretty great.” He sighed happily. “And Alya makes me watch all these soap operas and rom-coms so I’ve gotten an appreciation for them over the years.” 

“That I can see.” 

“Maybe we will drag you to come watch them with us some time and you can understand the film masterpieces that there are.” 

“I wouldn’t want to be a third wheel. And anyways I bet you’d just end up making out even if I was there.” 

“We could invite Marinette and you two could suffer together.” 

A new match loaded on the TV screen. They played in silence for a moment. Adrien tried to figure out what to say. His mouth opened and closed like a gaping fish. Nino shot him a sideways glance. 

“I’m thinking of applying to university.” Adrien eventually said. 

“Really? Dude, I assumed you’d be thrown right into Gabriel, honestly. I’m surprised you’re thinking about university.” 

“I’m really interested in studying physics. I don’t think my dad will be very happy when I tell him though. Actually, I know he won’t like it. But I’m not really interested in fashion or running a business like that. It doesn’t sound really interesting.” 

“Yeah, I can see that.” Nino chuckled. “You know who would be a great replacement for you?”

“Who?” Adrien squinted at the screen, leaning closer as he clinched the win. 

“Marinette.” Nino sighed and hung his head in defeat. “Another round.” 

“Yeah, that would make sense.” He tried not to think of Marinette. His mind jumped back to the conversation he eavesdropped on. Adrien itched to know who she was talking to and why it seemed to be a secret. He needed to know what she was lying about. Worried he would spill his worries, he tried to take the conversation away from the dark haired girl. The conversations kept spilling back to her. No matter how much he tried to change the subject. 

“Would you go to university?” 

Nino scrunched up his face, “I don’t know. I don’t think so. A degree isn’t really needed when you want to be a famous dj. It couldn’t hurt I suppose. Have no idea what I would even study.” 

“You could study whatever it is you want. I probably won’t even be able to go.”

Nino wrapped an arm around his shoulders, “Not if you keep thinking like that. Make it happen. That’s what Alya is trying to do. And I can bet all our other friends are too. I know for a fact that Marinette is pushing herself harder and harder so she can get into design school and pay for it. Who cares what Gabriel wants you to do. If you really want to go to university for physics, I know you can do it.” 

“Thanks. I needed that,” He pressed the front of Nino’s cap down, blocking his vision. He squirmed under the assault. 

“Anytime. That’s what best friends are for, dude.” 

Nino stood. His shorter legs stretched out underneath him. He rolled his shoulders and readjusted his red cap. Nino placed the clothes into his backpack, heading towards the entrance of the Agreste mansion. He two-fingers saluted his friend as goodbye. Adrien closed the front door behind him. 

“Adrien. You have to get ready for your fencing lesson today.” He jumped at Natalie’s voice, not hearing her approach him from behind. “Please get your gear ready. I will have the car ready to leave.” 

Adrien heaved air through his white mask. The foil hung between him and Kagami. He parried her onslaught of attacks and dodged her lunge. They moved opposite of each other. Each step out of sync and unpredictable. The buzzer beeped as Kagami landed a hit to his side. They set again. This time he took the offensive. Kagami deftly avoided all his attacks, moving like she was the air itself or could become part of it. Their foils collided with each other. The sound of metal clashed against metal. She ducked to the right. Only after her foil connected with his chest did he register the feint. The familiar beep stopped them in their tracks. 

Adrien removed his mask, tucking it under his arm. He ran a hand through the sweat slicked bags that stuck to his forehead. 

“What’s wrong with you, Adrien? You are not focusing. You are not even trying.” Kagami frowned as she took off her own red mask. “This is not like you.” 

“Sorry, Kagami.” He took a seat on the wooden bleacher. He sprayed a stream of cold water down his throat, sighing deeply. “I’ve a lot on my mind, right now.”

She took a seat next to him, stretching her ankles to point her toes. “Would it help to talk about it?”

“I don’t know. I’m not even sure what to say.” 

Kagami patted him on the shoulder. The scene might’ve looked strange to anyone looking upon them; as Adrien’s ex-girlfriend comforted him and he didn’t pull away from her touch. They had split on amicable terms and remained good friends and fencing teammates. Adrien never fell for her the way that he thought he could. Kagami had only figured out recently that her heart hadn’t truly been in it either. She hadn’t realized that her heart had been secretly after another blond. Except this time in a ponytail and a yellow sweater. 

“Try, Adrien. It can’t hurt to get some of it off of your chest.” 

Adrien took a deep breath and ran a gloved hand through his hair. “Have you ever found out that one of your good friends has been lying to you. But you don’t know for how long and you're not totally sure what that friend has even been lying about. You only know that it is serious and that this friend doesn’t know that you know. What do you do when all you want to do is confront them and demand answers as to what they’ve been lying to you about?”

“This friend is important to you?”

“Very. And I can’t stand the thought of them keeping something from me. Did I do something that would make me untrustworthy?”

“It is not about you, Adrien. I can promise that. It is probably something that your friend is not comfortable sharing with you. Yet. This friend might change their mind and tell you of their own volition.” 

“I’ve been thinking about the conversation I overheard and I can’t get it out of my head. I’ve tried to take it apart and piece it together and try to find the missing pieces, but since I only heard their side because it was a phone call, I have no idea what the other person could’ve been saying.”

“You should not have eavesdropped on your friend.” 

“I didn’t mean to.” Adrien paled at Kagami’s glare. “At first. But then I heard some things that I couldn’t ignore.”

“Like what?”

“Like that I think Marinette has a secret significant other.” He yelled. More at the situation than at Kagami.

“Marinette?” A grin spread on Kagami’s face. “I do not think that could possibly be true. There is no way that she could keep a secret like that from her friends. Especially from Alya.”

“I’m serious, Kagami. She got this call and it sounded like this mystery wanted to whisk her away tonight for a date. She even said out loud that she should because she’s already lied to us enough as it is.” His hands fisted and unfisted in his lap. “They almost convinced her too. She said it was almost impossible to ignore. How could she possibly see someone that would demand her to not spend time with her friends? Are they trying to have Marinette to themselves? Because that doesn’t sound very healthy. She should be spending time with her friends and with me.” 

“Is she coming out with you?”

“Yeah, but--”

“So, she did not cancel. You might be able to ask her about it tonight. See if what you heard was correct.” 

“Are you questioning my hearing, Kagami?”

“I am questioning your emotions getting in the way of common sense and hearing.” 

“What do you mean?”

Kagami’s lips pulled into a tight line, shaking her head of dark hair. “You do not hear yourself? You sound jealous, Adrien.”

He stiffened, “I don’t. Why would I be jealous of some stranger?”

“Because they are dating Marinette.”

“You admit that Marinette could be dating someone,” Adrien whipped his head. “And that would be a stupid reason. I don’t care if Marinette dates someone. It’s none of my business. I want to make sure that whatever she’s doing is a healthy thing. That’s all.”

Kagami breathed out sharply through her nose. “Adrien, you need to think about this carefully--”

“Thanks, Kagami.” Adrien stood to his feet, placing a kiss at the top of her head. “It felt good to get some of that off my chest. I really need to get going.” He retreated to the locker rooms. Kagami’s eyes burned holes into the back of his skulls. Adrien shook them off and undressed from his fencing clothes. His head raced with Kagami’s words. 'You sound jealous.' 

“I’m not jealous. Marinette is just a friend.” Adrien mumbled to himself. He slammed the locker closed and laced up his sneakers. “You can’t be jealous over a friend.” 

Adrien took a seat on the bench, leaning backwards on his hand. He wouldn’t deny that even his own words didn’t placate the tightening of his gut. There was also no denying that Marinette was a beautiful young woman. With fair, golden freckled skin. Some of the most beautiful, neverending blue eyes he had ever seen. Soft looking lips that always held kindness and laughter to it. The slender curve of her waist to her hips. 

“Nope. Stop. Don’t continue that thought train.” 

He ducked his head out of the locker room, trying to see if Kagami was waiting to sneak attack him. No sign of her short bob or red fencing uniform. Adrien’s bodyguard waited outside the car, opening the door for him when he saw him. He grunted as Adrien slid into the backseat. When he returned to the mansion, he settled into his usual routine. A long, this time cold, shower to wash the sweat from practice off of his skin. 

Adrien settled on the slender piano bench. Blond hair left to air dry. Long fingers trailed distractedly over the black and white keys. The singing the instrument made went in one ear and out the other. His hands moved out of habit rather than conscious effort. Against his will, his mind began to wander. Adrien wondered what it would feel like to have something softer to play rather than the cold, hard keys. Like pale, freckled skin. Soft and supple beneath wayward fingertips. Warm and addicting as they swirled around long dark strands of silky hair. The music that could come from parted lips. Small mouth formed a perfect circle in surprise and pleasure. Endlessly blue eyes that could bore deep into his own to the core of who he was.   
His eyes flashed open. Adrien pushed the heels of his palms into his eyes, trying to get the image of Marinette beneath him, captive against his touch, out of his mind. Blood boiled beneath his skin and traveled south. Adrien’s chest tightened and shifted his weight to readjust his weight. 

He pushed himself back from the piano, slamming the lid closed. Careful not to pinch his fingers. Adrien leaned his head on the backboard to the instrument. A sigh escaped through parted lips. He scratched at the back of his scalp, trying to relieve some of the tension building up in his head. Digging through his school bag, he found his cellphone. His finger hovered over Marinette’s contact. Insisting that if he could figure out what it was she was hiding then the invasive thoughts of her would dissipate. His thumb shook above her name, but refused to click on the messages. 

Adrien locked the device and threw it onto his bed and out of sight. He followed the phone to his bed, collapsing onto the duvet. His hands fisted in the sheets. Slamming his hand around the top of the bed haphazardly, he found his phone, opening his text messages. 

Adrien: are we meeting separately or what?  
He waited for a few minutes until his phone buzzed with a response.   
Alya: I’m getting ready with Mari at the bakery. You wanna stop by around midnight and we can head to the show together?  
Alya: I would offer for you to join us, but I think your boy heart would explode.  
Adrien: Sounds like a plan.  
Adrien: Why would my heart explode? Are you doing pillow fights in lingerie or something?  
Alya: You wish, sunshine. Don’t be late. We will leave without you. 

Adrien’s fingers hovered over the keyboard. Unsure what to say next. Should he mention Marinette’s weird conversation with her best friend? If anyone knew what was going on it would be Alya. Not only was she the best investigative journalist he’d seen, but she was also her best friend. 

Adrien: I wouldn’t dream of it. 

A knock pulled him away from his phone. Adrien bolted out of bed, running his hands through his messy blond hair, hoping to organize it slightly. Natalie opened the door. He rose to meet her. Hands clasped uncertain behind his back. 

“What can I do for you, Natalie?” 

She cleared her throat, “I was hoping we could go over your schedule for the next few weeks. We have a lot to discuss.” Natalie pulled her tablet out from under her arm, holding it out to him.   
The next week blocked out in a multiplicity of colors, times, and locations. Adrien scanned it, running over it as fast as his eyes could read. 

“There’s no time for school in the next two weeks. Actually, it says that next Saturday we are leaving for Milan for two weeks. Is this serious?”

“Of course it is, Adrien. As you’re about to turn eighteen, your father has insisted that you spend the next week in the company along with your modeling and lessons. The next week we will go on site to do some modeling and show you one of the international branches for the Agreste brand. It so happens that you will not have time to see your friends or go to school. All your classwork, however, will be collected and sent to you electronically.”

“Natalie--”

She grabbed her tablet back, opening her email and sending it to him, “Your father insisted on this schedule. He needs to make sure you are prepared for taking over the business and this is a first start. As he wanted me to tell you.”

“This is my last year with everyone. Can’t we wait until I graduate? It’ll only be a couple more months. I promise it won’t hurt.” 

“I’m sorry, Adrien. Your father was insistent. There is no changing his mind about this.” Natalie saw the pain in his eyes. Her chest tightened, but she squashed the feeling down as far as it would go. “I know it’s going to be hard, but you can still talk to them and text them. It’s only for the next three weeks.” 

“Yeah,” Adrien crumpled into his desk chair, turning on his three monitors. “Only three weeks.” 

He watched Natalie’s retreating back. Stiff and stick straight. Every hair in her bun slicked perfectly in place. Exactly someone his father would want to represent his company.   
Adrien laid his head down on his forearms, staring out the side into empty space. He groaned and stood. A notification for the email of his new schedule flashed on his screens. The screens blinked back to black when he pressed the power button. He walked over to his closet, rummaging through it. 

A smirk played on his lips. This was one of his last moments of freedom before Gabriel Agreste came crashing down on his life. Adrien convinced himself he wasn’t going to hold back. He was going to take advantage of one of his last nights where he was able to do what he truly wanted.


	4. Three of a Kind

Adrien rubbed his palms together. The dry cold of winter still clung to April, and himself, as he waited outside of the darkened Dupain-Cheng bakery. He stared up into the night, waiting for his female compatriots. Adrien leaned against the window next to the front door of the bakery. One leg crossed over the other at the ankle. He wore a tight white t-shirt that showed off the corded muscles of his arms and chest. Acid washed blue jeans slung low on his hips and ripped at the knees. The muscular ‘v’ of his pelvis peeked through the slender window between the shirt and waistband when he rose his arms. The letterman jacket kept his torso warm underneath the red and white leather and wool. 

His head turned when he heard the bell twinkling overhead as the door opened. Alya laughed hard. Almost doubling over. Marinette held in her own laughter as she shushed the other girl. 

“We have to be quiet. I don’t want to wake Maman and Papa.” 

“Don’t worry, girl, they sleep like the dead.” Alya spotted him and gave him a two finger wave. “Yo, Adrien. You ready?”   
Alya wore tight black booty shorts and a mesh bodysuit with flowers hiding her breasts and splayed over her stomach. Her long legs covered in thigh highs. Long reddish brown hair tied up into a high ponytail. A bomber thrown over her arm, embroidered with cherry blossoms and other flowers. In the lining of the collar, a Marinette signature that he would recognize anywhere. 

“Of course.” Adrien’s gaze landed on Marinette. 

Her back turned to the both of them as she locked the bakery behind her. She turned to face them. His mouth dried as he took her in. She wore a red babydoll style dress with a thin layer of black chiffon over the top. It barely came down to the tops of her thighs. Her modesty saved, slightly, by the sheer black tights and suede black boots that lace up above her knees. Her dark hair knotted up into two space buns atop of her head. A black leather jacket slung over her slender shoulders. Dark eye makeup accentuated the monolid of her eyes and the deep blueness of them. Glitter splattered along the column of her throat and disappeared past the collar of the dress. 

Alya elbowed him in the side, “If you’re gonna stare, you could at least say something nice, sunshine.” 

“He doesn’t have to say anything that he doesn’t want to,” Marinette held her hands up in defense. 

“Wow. You look amazing.” You would look good in anything. And nothing. The other words stuck on the tip of his tongue. Adrien bit them back as they threatened to spill. 

“Thank--thank you,” Her fair skin turned a cherry red. Almost impossible to see under the dim streetlights. “Shouldn’t we get going. We don’t want to be late.” 

They turned it head in the direction of the club. Alya skipped ahead of them. Her hair bounced behind her, swinging lightly. Marinette grabbed a hold of Adrien’s jacket. He looked down to see her warmed face.

“What’s up?”

She stood on her toes and leaned in close to his ear, “You look good too.” Adrien’s face warmed and he quickly turned away from her, hoping she didn't catch the red tinge to his golden skin. 

Her hands clasped behind her back as she ran to catch up with Alya. He watched them closely. The way that Alya would throw her head back in laughter when she laughed at her own joke. Or when Marinette would chuckle softly in reply. The street lights glowed on her fair skin, creating an explosion of light that caught on the highlighter on her cheeks and the tip of her nose. 

“Catch up, slow poke.” Alya turned her attention to Adrien. “For someone with long legs you sure don’t seem to use them. Nino’s already at the club.” 

“He must be excited and a little nervous. I know I would be. He has to play in front of a bunch of strangers for the first time.” Marinette murmured. 

She scoffed, “He’ll do great. And we’ll be there to support him if anything goes wrong. Not that anything will.” 

They arrived at the venue. The night’s chill clung to their exposed skin and clothes as they waited in a line outside the nightclub. People shuffled in line, moving up every so often. It didn’t look like they wouldn’t let anyone in, more like they were trying to control the flood of people. Adrien leaned back against the brick wall of the building, looking forward to the two chattering girls in front of him. 

Alya huddled close to Marinette, throwing her jacket on to protect herself from the wind. Adrien could guess that she was heavily questioning the mesh bodysuit when he watched her shiver. Marinette on the other hand, seemed to bask in the night, in the cool breeze. Locks of her dark hair fell out of her buns, framing her face and tickling the back of her neck. 

They were ushered into the Roulette Club after about ten minutes waiting outside. Bright neon lights, blasting music, and the intense smell of liquor and body odor assaulted Adrien when he walked into the club. 

A large dance floor spilled out before them, lit with flashing lights and neon lasers. A bar ran along the long side of the building, taking up an entire wall and a half. A raised DJ stage on the far side of the vaulted room, opposite of the front door they had come through. The music definitely wasn’t Nino’s yet. It didn’t have the same solid beat or mix of modern pop and classic rock that he would’ve recognized a mile away. 

“C’mon, let’s get something to drink to start off. I bet then I can get Mari to come out onto the dance floor and actually dance with me.” Alya hooked her arms with Adrien and Marinette, steering them to the bar. “We need to get this night started.” 

“I agree,” Adrien grinned.   
T  
hey approached the bar and Alya ordered them a tequila shot each. Alya took the first one, making a disgusted face and sticking her tongue out. Adrien took his back. It burned down his throat, making him cough slightly and settled heavily in his belly. He watched Marinette from the corner of his eye, taking the shot bak like it didn’t taste like shoe polish. Her pretty face held the same open smile as Alya ordered them another round. The next round of shots went the same way, with the same reactions.

“Oh, not a big drinker, sunshine?” Alya smirked him down when he gagged on the taste again, teasing. “Or are you faking it so we don’t think you’re an alcoholic?”

“My dad doesn’t like me to drink very much. And these taste like literal rubbing alcohol. I feel like it is meant to make you react badly. And don’t think I didn’t see the dumb faces you made, Alya.” 

“It’s cheap.” Marinette spoke up. She gained the bartender's attention and ordered another round.

“Duh, girl, I didn’t think we’d want to spend the good bucks when I planned on getting us wasted.” 

She wrapped both arms around Marinette, resting her head atop the other girl’s, in between her buns. Adrien felt the warmth in his chest as he downed the third shot. It tasted slightly better, like watered down show polish. Still made him want to gag. Marinette acted as if it was a glass of water that she was throwing back. He would have almost assumed it was if it wasn’t for the warmth that fluttered against her cheekbones. At least he assumed that’s what it was. It could’ve been the red flashing lights of the dance floor playing tricks with his vision. 

“You want to dance, Marinette?” The words fell out of his open mouth. 

Adrien almost moved to take the words back, not meaning to say them out loud. Marinette nodded slightly, changing his mind. He held out his hand to her. She laced her own fingers with his and pulled hte in the direction of the dance floor. Marinette dumped her jacket with Alya who glared at his retreating back. He knew she wanted to dance with her, but he had asked first. 

The bright lights bounced off the exposed skin of her shoulders as she began to dance. Marinette took charge of her own body as it moved. Her hips and shoulders swayed to the underlying beat to the music. Hands thrown around her and above her head. She captivated his gaze with the way she moved. The way her body seemed intrinsically tied to the music and the curve of her rotating hips and thrown back head. Her eyes closed as she lost herself in the movement of her body in the spot they claimed in the thrum of other dancers. She lost herself to the music. 

It took a moment for Adrien to realize he wasn’t moving. That he hadn’t moved a step since she had begun to dance. His hands moved of their own volition, trailing up the sides of her waist. He moved to bring her closer to him. 

Marinette let him, turning around in his grasp. Her head rested against his crook of his shoulder and neck as she moved against him. His hands latched onto her hips. The softness of her rounded behind against his pelvis. They moved in time with one another and the music. Adrien trapiased his hands over her sides, splaying them across her stomach and hips. His own body rocked agaisnt her on instinct. 

She turned around to face him. Her arms wrapped around his neck, paying with the longer hair at the nape of his neck. They continued to dance together in their foot by foot box they were given by the other dancers. For Adrien the other people on the dance floor didn’t matter as he caught her blue gaze. His own eyes trapped within them. Her pupils blew wide as she refused to look away from him. Adrien pressed their foreheads together, pressing her tighter against him. Their noses rubbed against each other as he stared her eyes down. 

The only thought in his mind that he wanted to close the gap between them. Adrien couldn’t seem to get Marinette close enough to him. Fingers dug into her waist. Her short pants played against his mouth. He wanted to kiss her. To feel more of her bare skin against his own. To lead her off the dance floor and take her into the nearest room and kiss her senseless. Until she forgot her own name or he forgot his. He didn't care which. Adrien leaned his face closer to Marinette’s lips. She turned out of his grip and away from his mouth. He groaned as he left the space she had just occupied. He watched her as she twirled and danced her way deeper into the panting crowd of dancers. Adrien moved to follow her, but lost her in the colliding bodies that surrounded them. His hands flexed, wishing to feel her beneath them again. 

He found his way over to the bar, looking for Alya. Instead he found a new bartender with a familiar face and dyed hair. 

“Look what the cat dragged in,” Adrien leaned forward on his elbows. “The great Luka Coffaine. I don’t think I’ve seen him in a hot second.” 

Luka looked up from where he grabbed a beer in the fridge behind the bar, “Adrien Agreste. Hold on a second and I’ll be right there. I’ll have a moment to chat.” Luka’s teal dyed hair tied up in a half hearted bun, showing off the shave that started above his ear and went around his head. He wore a button-up bleak shirt and black jeans with a half apron tied at his waist. The sleeves rolled up below his elbows, showing off the snake tattoo that wrapped around his forearm. 

“What are you doing here? I didn’t think you were a nightclub type of man. Here you go.” Luka placed a beer bottle in front of him. 

“I didn’t order this.” Adrien gave him a raised brow. “Thanks. I could say the same about you. Jeluka mentioned you were working with a producer to get Kitty Section another tour. I’m here because Nino is playing tonight. Alya and Marinette are here too. Somewhere.” He tried to ignore the way that Luka perked up at the mention of Marinette. The two had dated in the past, but all Adrien knew is that it didn’t work out. He never thought to ask Marinette for the details as he felt it wasn’t any of his business. And until recently, he never saw her as anything other than a friend. Nor had the physical reactions to her that he was now living through the consequences of. 

“I remember seeing someone new on the schedule. I can’t believe it's Nino though. Good on him. I can’t wait to hear his new stuff.” Luka gestured around him. “This is a pretty good job until some of the other members of Kitty Section finish with school. It’s hard to go on tour when your band members still have to finish high school.” 

“That’s what you get for hanging out with all your little sister’s friends.” Adrien chuckled.

“It’s been worth it a lot of the time. Have you been having fun?”

He sighed, sipping on his beer, “I was. Until I seemed to have lost both the girls I showed up here with.”

“Aww, poor baby sunshine. It’s not like you could ask any one of these girls to dance and they’d be falling over themselves to get close to the model Adrien Agreste.” Alya cut in. She ruffled his hair. “So sad. So lonely. I didn’t know you loved me that much, pretty boy.” 

Luka laughed, “Looks like we found one of them. Now we just have to wait for the last to magically appear out of thin air.” 

“Oh, I ran into Mari for a second. She said that she wanted to get some air and asked for her jacket back. She promised she’d be back inside soon. We still gotta dance and Nino is coming on in a couple minutes. Wanna get me a drink like you did sunshine, Luka?”

Luka nodded, dipping behind the bar. Adrien perked up at the mention of Marinette. He hoped she wasn’t trying to get space from him. Running his fingers through his hair, he wondered if maybe he had crossed a boundary with the way they had been dancing and she wanted to get away from him. 

“I think I’m going to get some air too. It’s hot in here.” Adrien headed towards the front, emptying the beer.

Alya grabbed his shoulder and turned him in another direction, “She went out the back, sunshine. You should go look out there.” She slapped him on the shoulder, propelling him forward. 

Adrien noticed the heavy steel door on at the end of the bar, on the side of the building. He hip checked it open, worried for a moment it was an emergency door and would set an alarm blaring. A haze filled his head. His thoughts clouded and sluggish. He thought everything seemed to move slower. While he remained at the same pace. The instant the door opened, a wave of cold crashed into his body like a tidal wave. He heard the door click shut behind him as he shoved his fists into the pockets of his jeans. Hope that didn’t mean he was locked out of the club. 

No Marinette in sight. He sighed and ung his head. Adrien moved to check the alley behind the nightclub. At the corner where the building turned into a second alleyway, stood a tall man in a black muscle tee. As he approached the man, he noticed the shirt had a cartoon cat playing with a ball of yarn in neon green. Adrien found himself laughing. 

“What are you laughing at, kid?” The man asked. His green eyes glowed behind the cherry of his cigarette. Maybe he shouldn’t try to piss off the man that stood over a head taller than Adiren’s six-foot form. His body was a wall of rippling, hard muscles. Long dreads dyed a neon green, glowing against the darkness of the night. Silver clasps interspaced on the chest length hair.

“Your shirt.” 

“Wow, if you didn’t seem like just an idiot I would assume that you are prejudiced against cartoon cats. Maybe that makes you an idiot.” The man blew out a puff of smoke. The heavy, thick muscles in his arms flexed as he crossed them over his broad chest. “You look stressed, kid, want to bum a cig off me?”

“No, thanks, I don’t smoke.” Adrien rubbed the back of his neck. “My dad said it's bad for his brand's image to see me smoking. So, I’ve never thought to try it. I don’t drink much either.”

“In France? Sucks to be you.” The man chuckled behind the cigarette. “Name’s Plagg, kid. What’s yours?”

“Adrien.” He looked at his feet. “Actually I came out here looking for someone. Have you seen a short girl with dark hair tied up in two buns come out here?”

“Nope. Can’t say I have. Why?” He knocked the ash off. 

Adrien sighed and squatted, “I wanted to make sure she was ok. I thought I might’ve done something to offend her. This is one of my last nights of fun before I have to go back rigid schedules and that bullshit that my father is putting me through. Shoots, business meetings, chinese, fencing, piano, business lessons, company shadowing, cooking class. Ugh. I can barely take it. I wanted one night of no stressors or worries and I went and scared off my friend. I want to be done with all this. I’m sick and tired of being treated like a business asset and not a son. I can’t see my friends or hang out with them. I feel like I barely have enough time to even hear my own thoughts by my fucking self. And now I’m drunk enough that I’m ranting to a stranger and feel like crying.” He tugged at his blond hair. A man walked past him and disappeared inside, but he didn’t notice as he stared down at a puddle. He wondered if it was alcohol or urine or something worse.

“Kid,” Adrien looked up at Plagg. The dark skinned man’s face hardened from its earlier jovial expression. “You don’t have to put up with that shit. You could tell him no.” 

“I can’t do that. What kind of son or person would I be if I backed out of my responsibilities last minute. And if I did, the repercussions of that. I would probably be locked in the house, still stuck doing the same things with even less general freedom.” 

Plagg wrapped his hand around Adrien’s collar, pulling him to his feet. He held out a business card to him. All black with green font. “Take this. If you ever need to let off some steam, kid, come to this address. It’s my bar. Well my wife’s and mine. You’re welcome and you don’t gotta worry about any of your worries there. No one gives a fuck about that type of stuff there. I might even get you a free drink if that wouldn’t be too bad for you father’s brand. Remember you’ve always got a choice. You only have to make it.”

“I--” 

Alya shoved the door open, interrupting in a singsong voice, “Adrien. Adrien. Nino’s about to begin. Aren’t you going to come back inside. You’ve been out here forever.”

“Ok, Als, I’m coming.” He pocketed the business card and followed the girl inside. Adrien looked back for a moment to see Plagg had disappeared. He   
scrunched up his face, returning his attention to his friend as the door closed behind him. 

Plagg put his cigarette out on the soul of his combat boot, “You can come out now, Mari. He’s gone.” 

Marinette ducked back from around the corner. Her hair fell completely out of her buns as she tried to repin it. “Thanks, Plagg. Sorry you had to do that. I didn’t think he would find me out here.”

He handed her a cigarette, but she shook her head. Marinette pulled at her tights. She tried to angle them to hide the rip by the hem of the dress. Plagg looked her over. With a look of sad understanding more than criticism in his vibrant gaze. She ran the back of her hand over her mouth. 

“Why are you even out here doing something like that if you care about getting caught and ask me to watch out for you?”

“I got freaked out ok. Can I actually have one of those?” Marinette held the cigarette between her lips, covering the end flame with one hand as she lit it. 

“I realized that I don’t actually care. I tried. That’s more of a Tikki thing, though. She’s better at the whole talk about your feelings and listening thing.” 

“You seemed to be doing a pretty good job a minute ago.” She chuckled.

Plagg sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “That was so much effort. I only did it because you needed me too and it would have been more work if that kid caught you having sex with a stranger in the alley. I calculated what would be the least amount of overall work.” 

“Yeah. Not my best moment.” Marinette shrugged. “I needed to do something slightly stupid before I did something monumentally stupid. I shoved the other guy off as soon as I heard you and him talking. I can’t say that he was too happy about that. But I gave him my best death glare and he didn’t push the issue.”

“Makes sense to me.” Plagg shrugged and began to walk away. He didn’t care to see if she ended up back inside. Marinette had put him into enough trouble for one night. While she might’ve been Tikki’s girl that didn’t mean he was obligated to stay and fix every problem that Marinette put herself in. Even if Tikki asked him to look after her tonight. Almost as if she knew that shit the girl would get into as a premonition. Because that girl was in the habit of running away from the scary, possibly painful things and into danger and self sabotage that she could control. Too much work for Plagg. Way more Tikki’s thing. 

Adrien took a seat at the bar. Marinette had found him and Alya as Nino’s set started. The heavy beat mixed in with the pop flairs and heavy classic guitar riffs resembling Jimi Hendrix. Alya had pulled her onto the dance floor before Adrien had gotten a word out. Now he sat alone, nursing a beer with the occasional free moments from Luka. Adrien watched the two friends. They bodies melded together in silent understanding of how to dance together. Hands glided over one another. Alya dipped Marinette deep and low, and he could see the laughter that came out of the dark haired girl even if he couldn’t hear it over the blasting music. 

“You look like you’d rather be anywhere but here, Adrien,” Luka said. “You ok?”

“I don’t know. I have a lot going through my head. Not all fun things.” His mind replayed his dance with Marinette. How close he had been to tasting her lips, to claiming her mouth. It replayed the words of her lying to her friends interspaced with the steamier memories. He whined, “I don’t know what I’m going to do.” 

“You don’t have to decide what to do right now. I bet you’ve got more time to decide what you want to do.” 

“The thing is. I think I know what I want. But I don’t know if what I want wants me back. And I also have so many questions that I need answers to, but I don’t know how to go about asking them.” 

“Until you figure that out, there is nothing you can really do about anything.” 

“I know. I really fucking know that.” Adrien laid his forehead down on the bar, trying to shove down the spinning of his mind. And it wasn’t just from the alcohol. Most of it wasn’t. Luka scurried off to help another customer before he heard Adrien’s response. 

“What do you know, Adrien?” Marinette’s voice startled him upright. She pressed the back of her hand against his forehead. “Are you ok? You don’t look so good.” 

He grabbed her wrist, pushing it away from his flushed face. His fingers curled against her hot skin, tighter than he meant. Tight enough that his knuckles turned white. Adrien stared into the endless abyss of blue that stared him down. Caught in their ebb and flow as if was an ocean in her eyes. Her face slicked with sweat. Hair fell from where she had tied it up in pretty little buns atop of her. His skin felt too tight as he looked down at her and took her in with his gaze. Marinette turned her eyes away from Adrien, looking at her feet. He felt her hand pull away from where he held it. 

“I’m fine, Mari. A little more intoxicated than I thought I was. Are you doing ok?” He leaned in close to her. A partially conscious decision that had him wanting to get closer to her. To feel the heat that radiated off her skin. To get another chance to smell her skin. “I tried to find you outside, but I couldn’t.” 

“I must’ve already come inside when you went to look for me.” She refused to reach. A stillness to her body as she refused to move under his eyes. Not like she has seemed to want to dance for it, beneath it, beneath him, only a half hour prior. 

“Yeah. That must’ve been it.” He tried to convey with his eyes what he really wanted to say. ‘I know you are a liar. So I don’t know if I believe you now.’ Adrien looked her over again. The sight of her disheveled and lightly heaving from the stifling heat of the club and the dancing had his mind traveling into dirtier and dirtier places and blood flowing southward. “What are you doing back here? I thought you were going to be stuck on the dancefloor with Alya for the rest of the time we were here.” 

“Me too. I needed to take a break and Alya wanted to dance by herself. I think mainly she wanted to get close enough to the dj stage that Nino could see her. I didn’t particularly feel like I was in the mood to be squashed by that crowd.” She smiled slightly. Even the little pull of her lips upward had warmth to it. Adrien’s heart fluttered in his chest at the sight. Marinette signalled for the bartender, ordering another drink. He was surprised that it wasn’t Luka who delivered it. She swirled the ice of the dark brown drink with her finger, dipping the wetted fingers into her mouth and sucking on it. Adrien couldn’t tear his eyes from the simple actions. Wondering what else she could use her small plump mouth on. 

He tore his gaze away before she returned her eyes to his face. A flush burned the curve of his cheeks and the tips of his ears. Marinette took a long sip of her drinking. She ran a hand through her long hair, separating it into two identical halves. Her hair tied into her signature low twin pigtails, longer than they had been in their first year of secondary school, but remarkably familiar. Adrien’s hand itched to run his hands through her hair as he watched her. He wondered if the strands were as silky as they looked. 

“Does it look weird? Do I look ok?” Marinette fretted with her hair. “I probably look really childish like this. Maybe I should try something else.”   
Adrien caught her hand, “It looks good. Don’t worry so much.” He quickly let go of her. Even though a part of him itched to hold her hand again.

“Thanks, Adrien,” Marinette grinned at him, finishing off her drink. “Do you think we could get out of her for a little bit? I’m starving and could really use some food. No long enough for Alya to notice or leave her behind her anything.” 

“Sure she won’t mind?”

Marinette chuckled, “She probably will give me a good talking to if she realizes. Hopefully we will be there and back before she does. Stealth mission style.” She winked. 

“There’s no way that she won’t find out and kick our butts.” 

“Alright,” An unfamiliar gleam showed in her large eyes, “Let’s make a bet out of it. I bet that we can get out of here, get some food, come back, and Alya won’t be the wiser and won’t kick our butts. You seem to think the opposite. And whoever is right pays the other person for the price of the food that they got. Either way, we get food. And I promise that I’ll take the blame should you win the bet. She will go easier on me. Sounds like a fair deal?”

“I won’t tell if you won’t.” His own stomach growled at the prospect of food. 

“It’s a deal.” Marinette locked her arm with his and steered him towards the front door. Her arm looked small and slender against his muscled one. Every nerve focused on where she touched him. His eyes stared down at her as she dragged him out of the club and into the cool early morning/late evening hours. 

The evening air cooled the flush against his skin, chilling the sweat that formed along his spine and upper lip. He ran a hand absentmindedly through his hair. He pulled her to a twenty four hour pizza place sandwiched between a laundromat and a small market. The bright fluorescent lights burned at his eyes as he followed Marinette through the dirty glass front door. They ordered two slices each from beneath the counter and watched as they tossed them into the awaiting ovens behind them. 

They saddled up along the bar on the wall digging into the pizza with a wild ferociousness. Along the walls, paper plates decorated by patrons in pizza, and non-pizza, themed designs. Graffiti littered the walls underneath and inside the bathroom people scrawled their names half drunkenly. He ached to lean against her as his head filled with a comfortable fuzziness and his stomach with the satisfaction of being full of greasy, shitty pizza. Some of the most delectable food he’d had in days. No salads with dry chicken breasts or stuck with a platter of vegetables that Gabirel refused to let there be any type of flavor to. Flavor meant spices and sauces and that meant the possibility of sugars and fats and his happiness.   
Adrien knew her lap would make a perfect pillow. Or her shoulder. Or anywhere she would have him. 

“We’d better be getting back.” 

“You want to win this bet, huh?” He winked. 

Marinette laughed it off, “More like I don’t want to ruin my chances and have to get chewed out by Alya.” She wiggled off the high chair, stretching her foot to a point until it came in contact with the floor. Marinette collected her paper plate along with Adrien’s and threw them in the trash. He waited for her, watching her move. Adrien crossed his arms over his chest. His head spun slightly when he moved, almost like the places had to catch up to his gaze.

“Did I end up drinking a lot?” He asked her as they left the pizza joint. “Because I didn’t think I drank that much.”

“Based on your size and height and how much I saw you drink, I don’t think so. But M. Agreste doesn’t let you drink very often, right? So you might have little tolerance and be a lightweight.” 

“But you aren’t. I saw you drink even as much as me and you don’t seem fazed.” He groaned as they got back in line for the club. A different one. Shorter this time as all they had to do was show the stamp, a circle with black and red checkered center, on their inner wrist to the bouncer and be let through the door. 

“Don’t get me wrong.” Marinette held her wrist up to the large bouncer as he showed his flashlight over the delicate skin. “My head feels pretty hazy and my limbs are a bit heavy, but I can still seem functioning and that’s what I’m going for. And Alya and I tend to drink when she sleeps over so I probably am a little more used to it than you. You shouldn’t drink anymore if you are feeling it too strongly. If you want to head home and get some sleep, you can. I just want to make sure that you’re feeling alright.” She reached her hand, as if to cup his cheek, before letting it drop to her side. 

“Hiya!” Alya screamed over the music, wrapping both arms around Marinette and dropping her head on the girl’s crown. She slurred her words, talking faster than Adrien could keep up. He half assumed what she said. “Mari, I thought I’d find you with mister sunshine over here. Dancing is so fun but not as fun without you. You’re such a pretty dancer. You’re such a pretty girl. Any guy would be tripping over themselves to get in your pants. Even sunshine. I love you so much.” 

Marinette turned her gaze away, hiding her face in Alya’s arm, “I love you too. Are you doing ok? You seem rather--”

“Drunk?! Well I am. Very much so. I met a nice boy who bought me a drink or two. His name was Nino. Maybe I should take him up on his offer.” She giggled into dark hair. 

“And what offer was that?” Marinette went along with the girl. 

“That I should go home with him and snuggle. He said he wanted to cuddle all night under the blankets and sleep. Then in the morning we could have morning sex. You know. The best way to wake up. I wasn’t gonna originally because I promised I’d stay the night at your place and walk home with you, but,” Alya dragged out the last word. “If sunshine could take you home safely then I could go home with Nino and everything would be perfect. Adrien could you do me the biggest favor and keep Mari company on the way home? Pretty please with a cherry on top? I’ll give you a kiss if you say yes.” 

“Yeah, I can walk with her home.” Alya made to give Adrien a kiss, but he put a hand over her mouth to block her, “But I don’t need any incentive.” 

“Perfect.” Alya jumped up and down before scanning the crowd. “The only you should be kissing sunshine, isn’t me, it's--”

“Are you sure you will be ok without us, Alya?” Marinette cut her off. “We can wait until you’re ready to leave.” 

“Nah, girl, you can go home. I want to dance some more while the next set starts and Nino gets ready to leave. And I know I dragged you out here and you wanted to get home by three. So, go ahead. I promise I’ll be a-okay.” Alya threw a thumbs up before turning to disappearing into the throngs of dancers. Adrien was surprised that this many people continued to crowd the dance floor and press in on all sides.

“If you’re sure.” Marinette mumbled to herself, looking down at her feet. “Do you want to stay any longer?” She looked up to Adrien.

“Not really. I’m super worn out. I was mainly staying here to keep you two company. But I also had a lot of fun. I needed this.” Adrien ran a hand through his hair. “And you knew Alya was going to end up too drunk to realize we left to get food without her, right? You knew it would be a sure bet to win.”

She shrugged, “Who can say? Did I possibly know that she might have ordered a couple more shots for herself before finding Nino and that she tends to be so distracted by her need for cuddles when she’s drunk to care about the two of us? Who knows?” A smirk played softly on her mouth. 

They left the club. Marinette shivered as the wind refiled through her hair, stinging her cheeks. They turned away from the club district and towards her house. A solid walk in the early morning. Adrien looked at his phone, hoping no messages came from Natalie accusing him of sneaking out. Luckily none showed. Instead the time weighed on his chest. Almost three. They walked in relative silence. Blanketed by the sound of a plane passing overhead and the occasional car or taxi. The street lights cast them in a white-yellow glow. 

“I don’t want to walk home.” She complained a couple blocks in. “I want to just lay down and never move again. Why did I agree to this? My head feels funny and my feet hurt in these shoes and my stomach keeps turning over itself.” Marinette stopped in the middle of a block, sighing so deeply it seemed to move through her entire body. 

Adrien stopped before her, “I could give you a piggy-back ride if you want.” The words left his mouth before he could contemplate them. 

“No no no.” Marinette held her hands up in defense. “I couldn’t ask you to do that for me. You’ve been drinking too, so you must not be feeling the best either. Sorry for complaining, I didn’t mean that you had to solve it for me.”

“You aren’t asking. I’m offering.” 

“And my answer is still no. That isn’t fair to you. I’m sorry for bothering you with my complaining.” 

Adrien only shrugged. Not really feeling in the mood to respond. She never bothered him. And she should know that at this point. They continued the trek back to the bakery. 

“Offer still stands. And you have nothing to apologize for.” He said when he found his tongue functional again. 

“Thanks for the offer.” Silence filled the space between them. Not an awkward or uncomfortable silence. But the one of two people with nothing to say and liquor addled heads. A silence where no one really thought anything of it, appreciating the blankness of their own minds matched by the quiet. The pair arrived at the bakery and Marinette dug in her jacket for the keys. 

“Goodnight.” Adrien said over his shoulder as he turned to continue down the street. “I had fun.” 

“It’s late. If you want to, you can crash on the chaise in my room or on the couch in the living room. If you don’t want to walk home that is.” 

He turned to her, gathering her up a hug, “Thank you for thinking about me. But I need to get home before my father or Natalie realize I snuck out. Staying at your place isn’t really an option. And a walk by myself might be good for my head. Get some of the drunk stupid ideas out before I start to think that they are a good idea.”

“If you’re sure. But you know the offer always stands. My parents love you no matter what.” Marinette stepped out of the embrace. “And don’t forget that you owe me next time we get food. Because I won that little bet of ours.” 

“You knew you would win. You had insider knowledge. I think that should count as cheating and you getting disqualified.”

“You took the bet not knowing everything. That’s on you.” She rose on her tiptoes and placed a chaste kiss on his cheek. “Goodnight, Adrien. I had fun this evening too.” Marinette quickly turned on her toes and disappeared into the bakery. The soft tinkling of the bell sounded as she made her way inside. 

Adrien touched his cheek where her mouth had been for the slightest of a second. So soft and fast he almost imagined it happened. Or blamed the alcohol in his system for making him hallucinate it. His hand dropped to his side as he meandered his way back to the Agreste mansion. The fog in his head began to clear as he shucked off his shoes and jacket by the front door. His pants and shirt soon followed when he made his way to his room, slumping into the large bed. Body craved sleep, sinking further into the mattress. The last thing he thought about as sleep pulled at his cement laden limbs was the warmth of Marinette’s breath on his skin and the softness of her lips on his cheek.


	5. A Straight

Marinette groaned deeply into her pillow. The early morning sunlight frustratingly crept through her skylight. She turned over, pulling the comforter over her head. Her head felt heavy as she turned over. Stomach tightened in her gut, making her worried she would throw up the contents of her stomach for a moment before it passed. 

“I shouldn’t have drank that much.” She murmured into her bedding, running her hands down her face. “Marinette isn’t supposed to drink that much. Normal for Ladybug, but, ugh. Good job, me.” Marinette sat up against her own will, throwing her blankets off her. She climbed down from her lofted bed. The shower called to her. Her hair greased with sweat and dirt and grime clung to her skin. Marinette shucked off her clothes and stepped out of her underwear, starting the shower. 

The warm water ran over her skin. She scrubbed the dirt out of her hair and off of her pale skin. Marinette hummed as the water hit her face. Satisfied that she had scrubbed the remains of the night and any stench of alcohol from her skin, she turned off the water. She rubbed the towel along her body and through her dark hair and tied it around her chest. Marinette dug through her wardrobe and closet, finding a pair of light grey cotton shorts, a tight black tank top and knitted rose colored cardigan. She found her sketchbook and case of colored pencils. Balanced on the black and pink book, she placed her pipe, grinder, and the jam jar of weed. She unlocked her skylight. Marinette placed the bundle on the side before throwing her legs over the window ledge and climbing up onto the balcony. 

The lounge chair called to her as she settled down on the cushions. She set the sketchbook and pencils next to her. The cap to the jar unscrewed and she pulled out the plastic baggy. Marinette brought the bag up to her nose, inhaling the familiar, welcomed scent. It ground up easily in the grinder and she placed the ground-up leaves into the bowl of her pipe. 

She brought the pipe to her mouth and lit it with her novelty lighter. The lighter had the Eiffel Tower and Paris skyline with ‘Paris’ written in cursive on it. A tourist lighter, but she loved it. Smoke warmed her throat as she breathed it in. It settled in her lungs. She breathed in a breath of the cool morning Parisian air and let the two mix together in her lungs. Marinette breathed out through her mouth, watching the smoke dissipate into the air. She continued until the weed in the bowl had been smoked, coughing as she accidentally breathed in some of the ground up leaves as the bowl ended. She picked them off her tongue and spit them out. 

“Fucking nasty.” Marinette muttered to herself. 

She pulled her sketchpad into her lap and opened it up. Past designs stared back at her. Some she had drawn in the beginning of secondary school blinked familiarly at her. Marinette ran her fingers over the pages, stopping at a design she had loved. If you could call it a design. Mainly it seemed like an excuse to draw her favorite model in very little clothing. Adrien Agreste’s sculpted form, the side profile of his face and cute off above the knee, splayed on the page, dressed in black boxers with little red ladybugs and an open red button up shirt. She designed it recently after taking the moniker Ladybug. 

Her heart leapt to her throat as she thought back to the previous night. Marinette thought about his strong hands on her hot skin. How his forehead pressed against her own. Mouth only a breath away from touching her own. His face had been red and his green eyes darkened. A look she had seen on many boys previously. One that she never thought she would on Adrien Agreste as he looked at--touched her.

Marinette shook her head, opening her sketchbook to a blank page. An idea formed on the tip of her brain. Her tongue stuck out the side of her mouth as she began to sketch out the beginnings of a design. Pencil moved quickly across the page. Almost, seemingly, of its own volition. She drew a traditional cheongsam, with long slits up to her hips with the design of illustrated eyes staring out across the fabric. Marinette traded out the graphite pencil for a couple colored ones. The body of the dress became a dark, glistening, familiar emerald green. While the eyes became a mixture of deep bloodshot reds and blacks. The clasp at the hollow of the throat was also red, along with the hems. She took out her eraser and whipped away the tea cup sleeves she had originally drawn to leave it sleeveless. Marinette put her pencils down, looking the design over. 

“Hopefully, it will still look good when I’m not high,” she giggled to herself. “Maybe a little horror-esq now that I think about it.” 

Her phone buzzed near her hip. Marinette pulled it out to see a familiar number flash on the screen. She answered it.

“Hey, Tikki. What’s up?”

Tikki sighed on the other end of the line, “No pleasantries this morning? Should’ve known to expect that.” Marinette could picture the woman pinching the bridge of her nose.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Plagg told me about what happened last night. I thought I would call in to check on you. It seemed like you were being you for most of the night and then you had that little run in, so I wanted to make sure that everything is ok.” 

“Just because I change my mind about fucking a stranger in an alleyway shouldn’t be cause for worry, Tik,” 

Tikki laughed dismally, “With you, Mari, it sometimes is. Especially because it isn’t like you. I know you might have a small crush on that boy, but I didn’t think it was that big of a deal.” 

“It isn’t. You know that I don’t act the same around Adrien and Alya and Nino that I do around you and Plagg and the other players. And I want to keep it that way. I was worried that my secret would be found out that I’m not perfect, innocent Marinette.” 

Tikki clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, “Makes sense to me. Speaking of players, there is going to be a game on Thursday night.” 

“What kind of game?”

“I’m hosting a Blackjack night for regular players. It is to bring as much money as you want to play with and no buy in. I wanted to have a more relaxed game with people I recognize, but rules stay the same as always. Also, the snake already said he’d be there if you’re interested. Said he might talk to some of the others that I couldn’t reach too.” 

“You asked him before me?” Marinette played at being offended. Even if a part of her was hurt that Tikki hadn’t asked her first. 

“You know that Blackjack is his thing. Just like Five Card and Texas are yours. I would never think of offering those games to him before telling you, baby. I also know you prefer games where you play more against other players, so I didn’t even think you would be that interested.” 

“Have me down as coming, Tikki. I wouldn’t miss it.” She itched to play something. Marinette had missed out on the game the previous night to go out with Alya and Adrien, and the small bet she made with Adrien didn’t fulfill that need that bubbled just below her skin. Especially when there was almost a ninety-nine percent chance of her winning that bet. 

“Perfect.” Tikki clicked off the line. 

She opened her sketchpad to the next black page and began to draw a design for Tikki. One that would suit her short, curvy frame. The design looked like a mixture of the queen of hearts and a ladybug. It was a bouffant style dress with a basque stitch at the waist. The skirt of the dress was a blood red with black stitching and black embroidered spades, clubs, hearts, and diamonds, like a playing card, spotted along the hem. The bodice of the dress held up by the lacing across the bare back. 

Marinette settled against the back of the lounge chair, looking up to the sky. Blue and cloudless expanse swallowed her. The sketchbook found its place next to her knee as she readjusted on the lounge chair. She refilled her bowl and brought it to her lips, breathing in the familiar high and calmness it brought her. 

Adrien already grew sick of the packed schedule that his father demanded of him. And it was only Tuesday morning. He’d woken up at four in the morning to his alarm, jumping him out of a particularly steamy and entertaining dream that involved a pretty dark haired girl and a lot of exposed skin. He missed school already. Missed his friends and classmates. The next few weeks were gonna suck. He would bet on it.

In the backseat of the luxury car, he pulled out his phone, looking through the messages. Nino had texted him throughout the past couple days. The other young man tried to give his reassurance that it would be alright. He also passed on support from their other friends. Alya texted him, giving him crap for missing class. Marinette hadn’t sent him anything, but a ‘good luck’ text. Adrien didn’t know what else he should have anticipated from her. It's not like they normally texted each other daily. No matter how much he wanted to. No matter how much he thought about her.

The car pulled up to the shoot location and Adrien dragged himself out of the backseat. His bodyguard/driver pulled off, trying to find a parking spot. Adrien was rushed into the back changing rooms where he was thrown into hair and makeup and many different answers. 

That’s how most of the morning went. Shoved into different looks with strangers hands over his body and telling him what to do with his body. By noon he was itching to get out of his skin and away from prying eyes and camera lenses. His hair stiff and makeup clinging to his face like a second plastic face. 

Adrien still wanted to talk to Marinette. The more he thought about it, the more he knew it wasn’t about the conversation he overheard. At that point he didn’t really care. Unless she did have a secret significant other. That might put a damper on some of his wild imaginations and kill the moods of his dreams. But if she did have a partner would she have danced like she had with him? Would she have let him roam his hands lustfully over her body? Or did she even realize that he saw her like that? They’ve known each other for four years and Adrien had been an oblivious idiot about the beauty and appeal of his friend. Until recently. Now he couldn’t see her any other way. 

His phone buzzed in his pocket as he settled to eat his lunch. “What’s up, Nino?”

“I thought I would call to check up on you, dude. From your texts you seemed depressed enough to jump.” He laughed. 

“Not that bad. Yet. But no really. It might fucking suck, but at least I can get through this and get back to class with everyone. Now, what’s the real reason that you’re calling?”

“Ok, ok. So, Alya might be a bit mad at me, right now. And if I’m on the phone with you then she can’t yell at me.” 

“What did you do this time?”

“Why do you think that it's my fault? What ever happened to innocent until proven guilty?”

“Knowing Alya she has all the evidence to convict. So, what’d you do?”

“You know that night I played at the club?” How could Adrien forget? He’d been a hair’s breadth away from kissing Marinette. “Well, this girl was flirting with me and maybe I liked the attention and flirted back a little, but I quickly put a stop to it before it could get much further than that. I think she’s just upset that I didn’t tell her and she found out. Or maybe because she wanted the girl's number. She was pretty hot.” Nino joked. 

“Nino--”

“Hey, I don’t need you to reprimand me too. I already have one person trying to pin my balls to the wall.” 

Adrien laughed, “I wasn’t planning on it. I was just gonna offer my condolences and to let you know I would love to give the eulogy at your funeral.” 

“Not funny, dude. I think she might actually sterilize me. My boys really don’t want that.” 

“Um,” Adrien rubbed at the back of his neck. “How’s Marinette doing?”

“Marinette? She’s doing good. Being her usual self, I guess. I know that her and Alya had a sleepover on Sunday night. Why do you ask?”

“She’s just been on my mind lately. So, I thought I would ask.” 

“On your mind, huh?”

Adrien sighed into the phone, “I think I like her. Like a lot.” It was weird admitting to it. He had barely said it outloud. The first one to himself in the mirror the night before. It felt different saying to a real human being and not his own reflection. 

“Dude, fucking finally.” 

“Wait, what do you mean finally?”

Nino chuckled, “You’ve been into her for almost as long as I’ve known you, bro. You’re too much of an oblivious dumbass to ever realize it.” 

“I have not been into Marinette for the past four years.” Adrien frowned. 

“Yeah, right.” He could hear Nino roll his eyes. A trick Adrien knew he learned from Alya. “It’s not like all the girls you’ve ever been with don’t look like her. First it was Kagami, a petite asian girl with dark hair and she had the advantage of being a family friend. Then there was that Korean exchange student Jiwoo, that was the same height and wore blue contacts. And we can’t forget about Emily, who was half Chinese, and she might’ve had grey eyes, but you specifically asked if she ever thought about dying her brown hair black. So, bro, either you have a thing for Marinette or you’re a gross white dude that has an east asian girl fetish. And I think I know you well enough to know that you’ve been pining after Marinette.” 

“God, I’m an idiot.” 

“Alya’s been telling me that for years. And you, to your face, for the same amount of time.” 

“How could I never realize? It was right in front of me.” 

“Because you never wanted to see her that way. She was one of your first friends, dude. You subconsciously avoided facing your own feelings for the fear that she might not see you like that and ruin a friendship. Also, man, she was always one of the prettiest girl in our class, nothing compared to Alya, but every dude had a crush on her at one point, even thirteen year old me.” 

“That sounds way too prepared and smart to come out of you.” 

“You’ve caught me red handed. Alya and I might have talked about this once or twice before.”

“Should I be concerned that you two talk about me during your little sleepovers?”

“It’s only in your best interest.” 

One of the shoot runners caught Adrien’s attention, telling him to get prepared for the next round of shots. 

“I’ve got to go. I’m being called back to hell.”

“Dude, you’ve gotta find a way to blow off some steam this week. Or sometime soon. Otherwise you’re gonna fucking die. Good luck, man. Everyone says hi.”

“Even Alya? And Marinette?”

“Well I assume. I haven’t directly asked. Marinette specifically asked me to let you know the next time I talked to you. See ya.” The call ended. 

Adrien’s heart fluttered in his chest. The thought of Marinette asking Nino to talk to him for her set his heart on fire. He floated through the next couple hours of shoots. Until he remembered that he wouldn’t be seeing her for a while, longer than he would’ve liked, and reality came crashing down like a brick through his good mood. 

He collapsed onto his bed after his piano and chinese lessons. His body ached for sleep, but his mind continued to wander. It remembered how she felt against him and how she smelled of vanilla and sweat. How the nightclub lights glowed in her bluebell eyes. She was soft against his hands and seemed to melt against his touch, or did he imagine that? He hoped he didn’t imagine how much she seemed to enjoy his attention and his touch on her when they danced. But she had run away right after, so maybe he had crossed a line without realizing. He would have to check in with her to be sure. 

Nino’s earlier words came rushing back in. Adrien slammed his face into the pillow with a groan. Every girl that he had been interested in shared qualities with Marinette. Even if he never noticed at the time. 

How could he have not noticed at the time? How could he not notice how much he liked Marinette before? 

He decided that he was an idiot for not noticing the beautiful young woman before him in the past three and half years that they had been friends. Adrien flopped onto his back and started up at his vaulted ceiling. He was restless, trapped in the spacious, windowed room, like a gilded birdcage that kept him from appreciating the endless blue of the sky or the endless blue in Marinette’s eyes. He felt haphazardly for the phone on his nightstand, finding a thick piece of cardstock instead. Adrien held it up, seeing the name of a bar, its address, and Plagg’s name imprinted on the cardstock.

Adrien hopped out of bed and tossed on a pair of black distressed skinny jeans and a forest green hoodie, slipping his feet into a pair of low cut white converse. He threw on a black beanie over his blond hair. Adrien laid on his stomach, searching under his bed for the rope ladder that he kept hidden in a shoe box beneath it, and pulled it out. 

He unlatched one of his windows, the one that he knew was out of range of the outside cameras, and hooked the ladder over the edge of the window sill, and climbed down. Adrien kept close to the walls of the mansion as he snuck around the corner, hopping the back fence, and disappeared down the alleyway. He put in the address for the bar from the business card in his smartphone and followed the map it gave him through the Paris streets. 

Street lights glowed around him and cars rushed by. More than he expected as the sun had set hours ago and it was approaching midnight. The map took him outside of the metropolitan and nice part of the city and into the old warehouse district filled with seemingly abandoned factories and storage centers. 

The Miracle Box came into view with its old ivy covered brick and lack of windows. Music spilled out of the warehouse building whenever the door opened, along with lights, and smoke. People stood by the entrance, chatting and smoking cigarettes as he walked past them, keeping his eyes on his feet, shouldering his way past the solid steel door and holding his breath against the bitter smoke. The warehouse had been cut in two, the larger section being the one that held the bar and lounge, it's another room barred from sight, with large open rafters along the high, open ceiling. Bright, bare bulbs hung from chains and wire like a hipster bar. Patrons sprawled out on leather booths, draped across high bar stools, or lounged out in the low tables surrounded by satin pillows. Inside it smells of alcohol and smoke and incense, but not in an uncomfortable or bad way, with no stink of body odor or urine. 

Adrien didn’t know what he was expecting when he entered the bar, but a small, underground speakeasy style place wasn’t high on his list. It wasn’t cush or high end like the bars that the models he worked with attended, but it wasn’t a total shit hole, or trap house, covered in unknown stains and unconscious bodies. It gave off a secluded and private vibe, like he could disappear and even if people recognized him they wouldn’t give a fuck about his name or his face, just here to drink and relax and enjoy time with the other customers. 

He took a seat on one of the leather bar stools, a couple seats away from the next patron, hoping to avoid testing out his assumptions of the Miracle Box. A curvy, petite woman approached him, wiping down a silver cocktail shaker. Her firetruck red coils were half pinned on one side of her head with gold clips ending in miniature ladybugs, and she wore a champagne colored jumpsuit with wide, harlem pants that cuffed above open toed stilettos and thin straps that led to a plunging neckline between her full breasts. Her lipstick matched the color of her hair, bright against her brown skin. 

“What can I get you, baby?” The bartender mused as she placed the shaker beneath the lip of the bar. 

“Um,” Adrien rarely drank, having no idea what to order. “What would you recommend?” 

She pursed her plump lips, “Let’s see what I can whip up for you. I think I have something that you would like.” The bartender walked away, bouncing on her high heels as she gathered whatever it was she was going to give him. She set a short glass in front of him, filled with an orange drink, square ice cubes, and a slice of orange floating along the surface. 

He took a tentative sip. A slight undertone of liquor, but otherwise it tasted sweet with a little bit of bitterness to it. “What is this?” Adrien asked. 

“It’s called a Fuzzy Navel.” The bartender smirked when he almost choked on his sip and a small flush tinged his ears as he almost laughed at the name. “It’s made with peach schnapps and orange juice. I thought you would like something that didn’t reek of booze.” 

“Thanks.” He mumbled over the lip of the glass. 

“What are you doing here, baby?” The bartender leaned her elbows on the bar, resting her head in her open palms. Brown eyes bore into his green ones. 

“What do you mean? This is a bar and I came to drink.”

She threw her head back and laughed. “And I don’t own this place and just like to stand behind the bar and serve people shots and cocktails. Listen, I know when someone comes here to drink or to play and, honey, I can tell you aren’t here for any of those reasons. There’s also the fact that I’ve never seen you around here and I’ve met everyone that comes to the Miracle Box. I take that as part of my job as the co-owner.”

“Someone recommended this place if I was ever stressed and needed to get away.” 

“You needed to get away?” Her red painted brows furrowed. “Do you wanna talk about it, baby? A bartender is just another word for a therapist, but we supply liquor, so it gets the patients to open up and talk a little faster.” 

He took a sip of the orange drink. “No offense, but I only met you a few minutes ago. I don’t feel like complaining about my problems to a stranger.” 

“None taken.” The bartender gave him a reassuring smile. She slid him another Fuzzy Navel after he finished his first and asked for another. 

Adrien took a bite of the orange slice and devoured the fruity flesh before taking a deep sip of the drink. The warmth of the liquor heated his chest and settled in his belly, lightening his heart and unfocusing his mind. He tapped his fingers against the wood of the bar, staring off into the rack of bottles across from him and trying to read their labels and the many different types of liquors on the mirrored wall. 

“I think I might take you up on that offer to be a therapist. But can I have another one?” He held up the empty glass. The ice made a soft click against the inside of the glass. 

“Same thing or something different?” 

“Whatever the lady recommends.” 

She handed him a glass of a dark drink with a lime situated on the lip. “White rum, cola, and lime.” 

“I have a friend that likes to drink rum and cokes.” A grin grew on his face as he thought of the dark haired girl that tended to order them.

“More than a friend by the looks of it.” 

Adrien held his hands up defensively, “Oh, it’s nothing like that.” 

“But that doesn’t mean you don’t want it to be. You look like a little love sick puppy for a moment.” 

He sighed and hung his head, taking a long sip of the drink. It had a bit more a bite from the liquor, but he ignored it. 

“I guess you could say that. I like her, a lot, like a lot, a lot, but I don’t know how she feels about me or anything. I didn’t even realize how I felt about her until recently. My other friend said that it was obvious for a while now and I feel like an idiot for not noticing it sooner. Now, I can’t even see her to talk to her about it, if I even want to, because I’ve been booked back to back in my schedule, and I’ll have to go out of town soon. So, I’ll be even further away from her. This isn’t something that I could talk to her over the phone about either. Recently, I overheard a conversation, on accident, and it turns out that she’s been lying to me and our friends about something and I have no idea what it is. I’ve been wanting to ask her, but how do I do that without being like ‘hey I eavesdropped on your private conversation and now I’m accusing you of being deceitful and secretive to me and our best friends and I think I have a massive crush on you. Like that conversation is going to go great.” 

“You want my advice?”

“Isn’t that what I’m supposed to get from my free therapist.” 

“Hey, I’m not free, hun, you’ve gotta pay up for those drinks still. But sometimes people don’t want advice, but only to vent.” Adrien pulled out a hundred dollar bill from his wallet and slid it across the bar to the woman.

“Don’t worry, I’m paying, but please, give me some advice.” 

She tucked the bill into the thin strap of her jumpsuit. “Maybe you should let the secret keeping go and pretend you never heard that conversation, unless you really want to know what it is she was hiding, but confronting someone about something they don’t want to talk about will never go well. But that conversation and the conversation that you’re into her have to be different. Why are you so busy, can’t you try to free up some of your schedule if she’s that important to you?” 

“I don’t have full control over it.” Adrien sighed into the empty glass. “Most of it is controlled by my father and the other people in my life for the sake of his company. I don’t really get any say over what it is I do and don’t do.” 

She took the glass out of his hand and returned with his change and another glass, obviously the last one the bartender would be willing to give him tonight, which was probably for the best because his head and vision spun and he felt like everything began to move slower than him. His body grew hot and vibrated beneath his skin.

“You have to take your life into your own hands ro you’ll never get what you want. You can’t let someone else dictate what you can and want to do because you’ll never feel satisfied or be a real human being.” 

“Be a real, satisfied human being.” He mused to himself. “That sounds pretty nice. 

“Tik,” Plagg burst through the door that seemed to lead to the other section of the warehouse and was next to the bar. He pressed the heel of his palm to his brow. “You won’t believe how terrible and stuck up those motherfuckers are in there. It makes me miss seeing LB and her gang play.”

“She’ll be here for my game. I’m sorry that you’re having such a tough time.” The bartender placed her hand on Plagg’s cheek. He pulled her flush against him, arms locked around her slender waist. 

His eyes connected with Adrien. “Kid, you came. I’m surprised.” 

“Wait. You mean that Plagg is the one who recommended that you stop by here sometime, hun?” Adrien nodded. The bartender turned her gaze to the man who held her. “And why would that be?” She gave him a cursory, disapproving look. 

“I thought the kid could use an escape.” 

“Tell me the truth.” 

“I am, Tikki.” 

She slapped his bicep. “The whole truth.” 

Plagg sighed and placed his chin on the crown of her head. He gave Adrien a once over before returning his attention to the woman in his arms. “I thought that you’ve got your Ladybug, and you’ve been having a lot of fun with her, that I should get my own protege. Maybe take yours down a few notches.” 

Tikki snorted. “I’d like to see that. It seems you found a stray kitten on the street and couldn’t pass up the chance to take him in.” 

“Um,” Adrien cut in. “What are you talking about?” 

“Well, baby, we run a casino in that other room, big money, under the radar and without identities. I have a girl that I have been friends with and helped to gain the skills to play well and she’s a bit of a mentee to me, so my husband here has gone out to find himself a kid to mentor in the world as well. You. By the look on your face, he never mentioned this to you.” 

“Nope.” Adrien said. 

“Sounds like him. Let’s say that Plagg doesn’t always think things through, nor does he seem to always think about the effects his ideas have on other people.” 

“C’mon, sugarcube. I thought that it would be fun to get a protege of my own to play with yours. I also wasn’t going to proposition him right away. What do you think, kid, would you be interested?”

“Interested in what?”

“Gambling. Real gambling for large sums of money and with me as your teacher.” 

“That doesn’t sound like something my father would approve of.” But maybe that was a good thing. “I don’t know how to gamble either.” But Plagg is willing to teach him. 

“You didn’t say you weren’t interested. How about you come to a blackjack game on Thursday and see how you hold up against some of the other players? It's a more low stakes game and you can pull out whenever you want.”

“Are you sure that is a smart idea?” Tikki asked. 

“Definitely, sugarcube. He doesn’t have to come. I’m just giving him the option to join your game. Think about it, kid.” 

Adrien nodded. 

He didn’t know how or why he agreed to Plagg’s invitation again or why texted the bar/casino owner for more details that the night would entail. Adrien’s heart threatened to beat out of his chest when he saw Plagg’s response. The time, the game that they would be playing, blackjack, and a link to an online server to refresh him on the rules and get him some practice playing the game. Plagg even offered to let him come by the Miracle Box early to make sure that Adrien understood the rules and etiquette for in house playing, and that he would have the cash to bet with. 

The weirdest part was the text he got a couple hours before the game was supposed to start; Adrien would need a mask. And a secret identity, or codename, to go along with it. He didn’t object. It would be better if no one could recognize the son of Gabriel Agreste and go running off to his father with the information that he had been gambling his allowance away at an underground, possibly illegal, casino. 

“You’ve got this, Adrien. It’s no big deal.” He looked himself up and down in the standing mirror in his walk-in closet. “Just a little fun and distraction.” 

God knows he needed it. Adrien’s entire body was rigid as a steel pole, stuck upright with marionette strings holding his crown ever higher like the photographers and his father wanted for runway appearances. He felt exhausted, overworked and overstrung, as he had back to back photo shoots, fittings, appearances at the international headquarters for Gabriel in Paris, not to mention keeping up with his school work, extracurriculars, sports, and the rigorous demands placed on him by his father. 

It wasn’t the money that made him nervous, he never was without it, as his father insisted that he be able to pay for himself and being a model, he did get paid, but it was the fact that he was doing something that would give Gabriel a heart attack. 

Adrien shrugged on a back Gabriel brand hoodie over his t-shirt and cuffed the bottoms of his black skinny jeans above his black steel toed boots. He tucked the black half mask, that he had because of a photo shoot where they wanted to play off of the Phantom of the Opera, but in black instead of white, into the pocket of his hoodie, along with his wallet, stuffed with as much of his allowance as he could fit, and his phone. 

As night settled in hours ago, Adrien crawled out his window along the wooden ladder and jumped onto the grassy courtyard beneath his room, and escaped out the back gate. He took the same walking route to the Miracle Box as the one before, meandering along the Paris city streets, ignoring the picturesque Eiffel Tower, passing the tourist entrance to the Parisian catacombs, wandering past the scaffolding along the arching stone, glass, and wood of the Notre Dame, and sidestepping the Arc de Triomphe. It seemed like the path meant to show off some of the major attractions that the city had to offer. Adrien curled and uncurled his fists at his hips as he approached the warehouse that held the underground gamlbing establishment and bar. 

“There you are, kid,” Plagg smirked. A cigarette hung from his grinning mouth, smoke unfurling from his lips and nostrils. “I thought you might chicken out on me.” 

“I can’t say that the thought didn’t cross my mind.” Adrien shook his head as the man offered him a cigarette from the package he kept in his back pocket. 

“You’ve got nothing to worry about. I saw your scores on the website and you seemed to get the hang of the rules pretty quickly.”

“Thanks.” 

His radioactive green eyes darkened as he looked Adrien down the tip of his nose. “But listen here, kid, playing online and playing in person are two very different experiences, and I know for a fact that there are some veterans playing tonight, so it won’t be an easy test run. You’ve got my name backing you up, so don’t fuck up.” 

“But you think it will go alright for me there?”

Plagg shrugged. “I’ve got no fucking clue.” He chuckled. “Either way it will be fun for me.” 

“Great pep talk.” Adrien crossed his arms over his chest.

“Never claimed to be giving you one. Now, get your skinny ass in there before you’re late.” The smirk on his face grew even bigger. “But wait, I almost forgot the most important part.” He fished something out of his back pocket and plopped it onto Adrien’s crown of blond hair. “The perfect addition to your ensemble.”

“What did you put on my head?” 

“My own patented lucky charm.” 

Adrien reached up to feel two triangles of felt and a headband pressed into his scalp and poking out of his unruly curls. “Did you give me cat ears?”

“I did.” Plagg shot him a wink and disappeared into the bar. Adrien followed after him, barely registering the steel door sliding shut behind him. The man leaned against the doorframe to the back of the warehouse, arms crossed lazily over his chest, and a wicked, mischievous glint in his gaze. He stepped out of the way of the door and gave Adrien a shove on his back, between his shoulder blades, with enough force to pitch him forward. “Now, go play and have fun, Chat Noir.”

As he made his way to the back room, lined with gaming tables, and people playing around them, Adrien had an urge to rip the headband off his head. A flush singed the tops of his ears. He couldn’t believe Plagg, making him look like an idiot before a game with seasoned gamblings pros. He wouldn’t be surprised if he got laughed off the table and out of the game. But he never took them off. Adrien was supposed to be Plagg’s protege and if he wanted him to wear the cat ears, for luck or entertainment, then he would, and it's not like anyone would associate them with him, with Adrien Agreste.

And maybe a part of him thought it was fun too. A part of him that could let go of the etiquette and manners and rules that came with the identity of Adrien Agreste. Maybe the costume and mask would give him a chance to step out of his skin and be who he actually wanted to be. 

Adrien found the mask in his pocket and slipped it onto his face, quickly working to tie the two sets of laces behind his head and under his ear. He caught Tikki’s red set of curls before anything, as they were left down to bounce along her face. She caught his eye and waved him over to the table she was at. Tikki’s attention was grabbed from his as a girl next to her leaned in close to her ear. 

His breath caught in his throat as he saw the girl and for a split second he almost turned tail and ran, as she had a remarkable resemblance to the girl he had a massive crush on. Except it couldn’t be Marinette, even if the girl shared the same jet black hair and sparkling blue eyes behind her red and black spotted mask, he knew that it wasn’t her. Marinette would never be caught in a place like this. She wasn’t a gambler. It just wouldn’t fit with the innocent and precious Marinette he knew. 

This girl also didn’t dress like Marinette. She wore distressed black booty shorts, with studs along the sides and a chain that swung from one pocket to the other, red high tops vans, and a black muscle tee with a praying mantis dressed like a nun in bondage on it. As the girl turned to sit back down in her chair, she noticed that her sides were completely bare without the wing of a bra cutting across pale skin. Along the side of her ribs, he noticed a black tattoo, but he was too far away to get a close look at it. 

No way this girl could be Marinette. Just a girl that looked similar enough under the mask and punk rocker clothes and tattoos to be a sister or a cousin. As he approached the table, Tikki gestured to the seat next to the Marionette look-alike, he noticed that the tattoo on her ribs facing him was a playing card. The ace of spades. It was feminie, with strong black work and delicate filigree surrounding the large spade on the card’s face. 

The girl caught him staring and smirked. A smirk more devious than even Plagg’s. Like a devil grinned in those lips. 

“Do you like what you see?”

“I, uh, I wasn’t, I wasn’t trying to--”

She laughed. It was a pretty, devilish sound coming from her. “So, was it the body or the tattoo that got your attention?” 

“It was, it was the tattoo, yeah, tattoo.” But he couldn’t say that like any teenage boy looking at a pretty girl that her astounding body didn’t have some effect on him, but he couldn’t tell her that. 

“She’s got more of them on her. You’ve just got to know where to look.” A young man draped his arms over her head, leaning on top of her with a grin. He wore a teal mask with accents of gold and black, scale like texture to the skin tight surface, and yellow, black tipped fangs on the apple of his sharp cheekbone. 

The girl jabbed her elbow back with enough force to knock the wind out of the man. Adrien winced with the young man as he doubled over, face contorted in pain. A pain that Adrien knew of and recognized as she didn’t get him in the gut, but in the groin. The man stepped away from her. 

“Fuck, Ladybug, what was that for?” 

“If you touch it you buy it. And you don’t look like the type to afford it, so no touching.” The girl-Ladybug-seemed to hold no remorse in her actions. Definitely not something Marinette would do. Adrien could never picture her striking someone in the balls, let alone anywhere. “Now take a seat so I can take all your money, Viperion.” 

Adrien swallowed hard at the determined and playful look in her eyes, the set of her soft jaw, and the grin that split the bottom of her face in half. Most of the time, he would assume anyone that boasted like she did would do it out of nervousness and lack of actual talent, but the irking feeling on the tip of his tongue told him that she wasn’t someone to mess with.

“I’d like to see you try, love.” 

“Love? Don’t get too hard pining for me, snake. I want you at the top of your game.” Ladybug turned her vibrant blue eyes on Adrien. “I’m Ladybug, and that’s Viperion, what’s your name, chaton?” She flicked one of the fake ears on the top of his head. His face warmed at the expression. 

“Ad--Chat Noir.” 

“Like the old cabaret show? Le Chat Noir?” 

“Uh, no, like the, like the black cat.” He pointed to the felt ears. “Plagg gave them to me for good luck. Or to embarrass me.”

“Either is possible knowing him, kitty. But don’t worry too much about being embarrassed, you make them look pretty cute.” 

“Ugh, flirting with the newbie, how cheap can you get?” A blond girl approached the table. Her hair spun into tight curls and pinned up into two high pigtails. Her mask was a bright golden yellow with black stripes across it like a honeybee. “Can’t you play without relying on cheap tricks? Or did you realize you actually suck and shouldn't even be allowed into the top underground casino in France?” 

“More trash talk, Queenbee? Where’s your little dragon? Is she not playing tonight?” Ladybug’s lips curled from a smirk to a sneer. “I’d rather play with her than with you. She actually knows what she’s doing.” 

“Pot meet kettle.” Viperion mused. Both girls shot him a glare that would’ve had Adrien melting beneath them. He leaned over to Adrien’s ear, ignoring the scrambling bug themed players. “As long as I’ve known them, they’ve been barely able to stand each other, so this isn’t new. Don’t worry, Chat, things will cool down once we actually get playing. Don’t worry about being the new kid at the table, just have fun.” 

“Really?”

“Sure.” Viperion smirked. “I’m favored to win tonight anyways, but I think LB will have a different say in the matter. You should watch out for her though, she’s got a killer right hook and an even deadlier aim when it comes to cards. And Queenbee always trash talks everyone and everything like a little girl throwing a tantrum, but she knows her way around a blackjack table. There’s supposed to be another person showing up before we can begin.”

Adrien opened his mouth to say something when another person arrived. She was older, unlike all the other players that looked to be around his age, or like Viperion, a couple years older, but not much. She was middle aged with dark hair that had begun to grey at the temples and heavy purplish blue makeup around her eyes and along her cheeks under her mask. The same color as the contacts that she wore. Her dress was a long, dark blue silk with slits up both sides and purple tights on her long legs. As she took a seat, she fanned out the peacock feather hand fan that she kept clasped to her chest. 

“Now that Mayura is here, we can play.” Tikki announced, breaking open a couple sets of playing cards for everyone to see and shuffling quickly and skillfully beneath her lithe fingers. 

The rotation on the table started with Ladybug, ending with Viperion; Mayura, Queenbee, and Adrien in between them, sitting in that order with Adrien next to Viperion. He caught Ladybug’s face from the corner of his eye, hard and focused with the same smirk hanging off her plump lips. Each player bet a certain amount before the cars were dealt to each player. Adrien kept his first bet low as he placed his chips on the table, Tikki having handed each of them a stack of what they paid for. 

Ladybug picked at the corner of her cards with her nail and quietly tapped the top of them. Tikki, with lightning fast reflexes placed the card on top of the pile in her hand face up for the table to see. Blackjack was interesting, he’d figured out. As all players played with the same deck of cards and weren’t playing against each other, only the dealer. He looked at his own hand in the similar style of ladybug, a soft fifteen: an ace and a four. Adrien thought his options out in his head at what he should do. He could hit and hopefully get a couple of cards that could help him get to the precious number of twenty one, but if he hit and got a ten, he would be in the same boat as the soft fifteen with many different ways for the dealer to have a higher balance on her cards as the one card up that he could see read six. 

When Tikki came to him and asked if he would hit or stay, he rapped his knuckles against the table. She flipped him over a ten. Adrien should’ve expected the most common numeral to come face to face with him. He swiped an open palm over his hand, a motion to stay, unwilling to risk going over with another ten. 

Viperion, next to him, just motioned to stay. His face was cool and impassive beneath the mask. No emotion could be read off the handsome features. Unlike Ladybug, who wore confidence and pride and greed like they were a second skin. Queenbee wore a constant scowl he learned as he watched her play. Mayura had a poker face in her own right, smoothed over and schooled with her face barely lined like she never moved the muscles in it. 

Tikki showed her cards, along with everyone else. Queenbee and Adrien both forfeited their bets with Mayura tying and getting back her original bet, and Viperion and Ladybug both taking money from the house. 

Most of the round went Viperion and Ladybug’s way. Adrien kept his head down throughout the rounds, playing it safe and not betting high, as he seemed to lose more than he ever seemed to win. Queenbee wasn’t the best player either, as she lost control of her emotions on occasion and ended up tossing her cards at Tikki at one point. Mayura never spoke, barely even moved as she played with her gaze always transfixed upon the cards in front of her or those dealt to others. 

“Looks like you and I are doing pretty well, Ladybug.” Viperion leaned on the card table. A small smirk lighting up his features. He slipped a chip between his fingers and danced it along his knuckles. Ladybug ignored him, focusing on the cards dealt to her. The same confidence radiated off her even when she didn’t win a hand, which was few and far between. “How about we make a little side bet?” 

This perked her interest as she turned her attention to him and narrowed her bluebell eyes, “What do you have in mind, viper?” 

“If I win more tonight, then you have to go on a date with me. Outside the Miracle Box. Like the good ol’ days.” 

“Hmm, sounds boring, and there doesn’t seem to be anything in it for me. I’ll pass.” She flipped over her cards. “Blackjack.” And got a three to two return on her bet. 

“C’mon, LB, what would entice you to take up my offer?” 

Ladybug was silent for a few long minutes, tapping her bottom lip with her pointer finger as she thought. 

Adrien leaned in close to Viperion, “Aren’t side bets usually not allowed?”

“Do you see Tikki caring? This place works a little differently than other casinos and that’s why the players like it here. You can do what you want and play the way that you want and be the person that you want; the one you aren’t beneath the mask.” 

“Okay, I’ll take you up on your side bet, snake. But if I win,” She spoke slowly and meticulously when she finished. “I get half of your winnings from tonight and you have to announce that I’m the best blackjack player there is and that your skills could never hold a candle to mine.” 

“Deal.”

Adrien’s jaw almost hit the floor when he heard Viperion take the deal. It seemed that one party would end up getting more than the other if they won, more than the other side was worth. Ladybug, if she won, would get half of his winnings and destroy his pride along with it. That couldn’t be worth the risk of a single date. But then the thought of Marinette crossed his mind, and how he would probably do anything for a shot at a date with her, and closed his mouth. 

The game played on, round after round, bet after bet, hit or stay, split the cards or double down or go over, those were his options for the next couple hours. Adrien lost himself in the game, in the thrill of putting actual money and pride on the line to hopefully win more. The distraction from the suffocating monotony and isolation and lack of autonomy that he was growing sadly accustomed to. Excitement itched beneath his skin as his confidence rose and he started to win back some of the bets he made. 

Maybe. He thought. Maybe he wouldn’t come out the biggest loser of the game.

As the table wound down and moved to end, Adrien realized he ended up in the black, making more money than he lost. His heart swopped and soared, even though it only happened to be about a hundred dollars more than he started with. Any little bit of gain set a fire in his belly and fueled his desire to play again. 

“Read ‘em and weep, Ladybug.” Visperion held up his chips, arranged in a plastic carrier, in rows by color denomination, for the lady in red to see. “I made a cool thousand nine fifty. How did the bug do?”

“Pretty well.” The smirk never left her face. “About two thousand two hundred and five.” She held up a similar ship organizer, and he watched as Viperion’s confident smile dropped. Only for a split second before he grinned at her again. 

“Alright. Here you go.” Viperion split half of his winnings and placed them into her carrier.

Ladybug walked around the table and leaned in close to Viperion’s face. “Isn’t there something else that you’re missing? A deal is a deal, snake.” 

If he wasn’t so distracted by them, he might have felt a little bit of shame as his own ending sum of a thousand one hundred and seventy dollars. But it wasn’t really about the money he decided as he watched them. He had plenty. It was more about playing and winning and using that to your advantage to become the person you wanted to be. Like Viperion had said earlier. 

“My dearest Ladybug,” He leaned in close to her, his voice low, before turning away and stepping onto the seat of his chair. Viperion yelled at the top of his lungs, “You are the best blackjack player I have ever seen and my skills could never compare to your own.” 

A couple glares were shot his way, but Viperion ignored them and hopped down from his perch. He gathered up what was left of his winnings and disappeared back into the bar area of the Miracle Box. 

Adrien gathered his own and followed Ladybug out of the parlor. 

“You did well, my lady.” He flashed her a grin as he slid his chips over to Plagg, who stood behind the bar, to get them turned from clay into cash.

“My lady?” She smiled up at him. “That’s new.” 

“Well if anyone plays as well as you do, they should be treated with the utmost respect.” He could be anyone with that mask on, he decided. Just like Viperion told him. He grasped Ladybug’s petite hand in his and turned it over to plant a kiss along her knuckles. “I only hope to gain the skill of my lady one day.” 

She took her hand out of his grip, pushing him back with a finger on his nose. “You seem like a fast learner. I bet you could do some serious damage if you really learned how to play.But you better be careful, chaton. It isn’t always fun and games like tonight.” 

“You really think so? You think I can actually be a good player?”

She giggled. A light, soft sound that was almost familiar. It set a warmth in his chest. “Of course, you silly kitty. You have the natural instincts of a good gambler, even if you are a little cautious and focus too much on your own chances of winning and not enough on the other gamblers, but you can improve.” Ladybug gathered up her cash and slipped them into the purse at her hip. “And I hope that I’ll be able to play against you when you do get to be the good gambler I see in you, chaton.” She stood up on her toes and played with his felt ears. “Have a good night.” 

Adrien wanted as she disappeared out the front door of the club, turning to talk with Tikki as the door closed between them. He noticed her eyes glow for a moment as her thumb struck the striker on the lighter and brought it near her face to burn the cigarette hanging between her lips. Plagg silently handed him his stack of cash. A smirk split his face and he cocked a brow in Ladybug’s direction. Adrien shook him off. 

When he exited the Miracle Box, subconsciously hoping to catch sight of Ladybug again, he found her gone. Adrien took a deep breath and made the solemn trip back to his mausoleum of a house, barely disappointed as he rode the high from the game and from forgoing the picture perfect, innocuous Adrien that he was to everyone else. Maybe he would keep the ears and the mask and find another time to play with them on. Adrien could only hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really like this story and it is really important to me. So, I hope that you all enjoy it too. I was having such bad writers block with this, but I hope that this chapter works well and that everyone enjoy the characters I've created. I know they aren't the same as the ones we are all used to, but let's just say that this Marinette is more like me than I would care to admit, or maybe should. Please let me know what you think!


	6. A Flush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, I have something important to say here-There is mention of past sexual assault and attempt in the end of this chapter, along with lots of drug use. 
> 
> Song lyrics come from:
> 
> Sex- Shoobies
> 
> Pretty One- The Spins
> 
> Bad Intentions- Transviolet
> 
> I can't write music or songs.

Marinette walked into class, the last warning bell ringing over her head, as she slid into her seat next to Alya. The blond head of hair that usually sat in front of her was still missing, causing a sadness to settle in her chest that wasn’t abated by the high that thrummed in her veins. She’d brushed her teeth twice that morning and sprayed on her favorite perfume to rid herself of any residual smell of weed from her teeth and skin, hoping that Alya wouldn’t catch on as class started. Marinette hadn’t planned on smoking a bowl that morning, but she woke up around four in the morning, unable to sleep, and tried to smoke to help her fall asleep again, but when she woke up, the high remained. 

She tried to focus on the lecture, but instead her mind wandered off to the missing boy. Her chest constricted as she missed seeing his neatly combed through hair and old spice cologne and innocent emerald gaze and soft smile. Her middle school crush never truly faltered, only for a couple of months when she was with a couple other boys, mostly when he was with a new girlfriend, but her heart still wanted to cling to her first crush and it didn’t seem interested in letting it go. 

When Nino told her about how stressed out he was with his schedule booked solid and being unable to come to school, her heart reached out for him. As classes moved on and lunch arrived, Nino and Alya disappeared, leaving Marinette to fend for herself. 

A hand slammed down on the desk in front of her. Marinette looked up into Chloe’s icy blue gaze. Her long blond hair tied into a high ponytail and she wore tight blue jeans and off-shoulder cropped yellow long sleeved peasant top. 

“Can I help you?” Marinette sighed, resting her chin on her palm as she took a bit of the quiche her father had made for dinner the night before and she packed for lunch. “Or are you going to stand there like an eyesore?” 

“He’s throwing a party tonight, right? I want in.”

She laughed through her nose, “Kagami’s already coming, you could’ve asked her.”

“I did.” Chloe took the seat next to her, straddling the back of the chair as she turned it to face Marinette. “But that wasn’t all I wanted. I wanted to make a bet with you. I thought you might be interested.” 

Marinette perked up at that. “What kind of bet?” 

“How long it takes until Alya and Nino find out the truth about you.” 

“I don’t know what you mean? Chloe, you know we made a deal--”

“Just kidding. I want to make a bet about when Adrien will be back. Whoever gets closest, within the minute, owes the other a favor.”

“Why should I be interested in this bet?”

“Because you can’t say no do a gamble, Dupain-Cheng, and it has to do with Adrikins, which is even more incentive. You can let me know at the party tonight.” 

Chloe turned to leave and was halfway to her seat when Marinette spoke up, “Ten days, sixteen hours, and ten minutes.” 

“Deal, Dupain-Cheng. thirteen, three, forty-five.” 

The rest of the school day passed without incident and by the end, Marinette was practically itching to get out of the building. She waved good-bye to Alya and Nino before bounding down the steps of the secondary school to come chest to chest with a familiar face. 

“Afternoon, Mari.” Luka stepped back and appraised her. His grey-blue gaze looked her up and down. A small smirk played on his soft mouth. 

“I thought I wasn’t seeing you until later.” She crossed her arms over her chest. 

“I was free, so I thought I could give you a ride to my place a little bit early. I thought I could surprise you.” 

“What if I wanted to have time to get ready?”

“You don’t need to wear anything fancy tonight. Or anything for that matter.” 

“You wish, snake.” She poked him in the chest, but took the motorcycle helmet that he held out for her. Marinette swung her leg over the leather seat behind Luka and straddled the motorcycle, wrapping her arms around his slender waist. 

He kicked the clutch and put the motorcycle into gear, “Ready?” Luka smirked as he gunned the engine and took off down the Parisian streets. 

Marinette leaned back in the seat, the back of the seat pressing into the small of her back as she looked up towards the blue of the sky. Luka wound his way through cars and traffic, driving between the lanes and swerving out the way. His movements self assured and confident like he was meant to be driving those streets on the back of that bike. She held onto him again as they rounded a sharp turn before approaching the river and the houseboat that she could walk around with her eyes closed and drunk, she had on more than one occasion. Luka slowed them to a stop and they climbed off. 

He held out a hand to help her over the ledge and into the houseboat. Marinette ignored it and hopped down without a second thought, winding her way to the bathroom. She slammed it shut behind her, appraising herself in the mirror. Marinette wore a pink pleated skirt and a white button up with a feminine bow tie at her neck and thick tights. She stripped herself of the tights and bow tie, shoving them into her backpack, rolling the waist of the skirt up, so it barely went past the curve of her ass, and she unbuttoned her shirt before knotting it above her navel. 

She untied her twin braids and ran her hands through the waves, scratching at the scalp with her nails, letting her long dark hair fall along her shoulders before tying it up into a low chignon. Marinette slid open the bathroom door and stepped out onto the top deck. 

Luka leaned against the rail with a lit cigarette hanging from his pursed lips as he stared out onto the water. She took a seat next to him, settling on top of the rail, plucking the cigarette out of his mouth to take a long drag. Luka gave her a long sideways glance before returning his attention to the Seine. 

“That looks like the Marinette I know.” 

“You say that like I wasn’t being me earlier.” She took a long drag, smoking the rest of the cigarette down to the filter. 

“I like this Marinette better, it feels more natural. I know that I’ve written more songs about you like this than I did when you were playing at soft and precious and innocent.”

“I’ve heard those songs, Luka. They were all songs about sex.” 

“And? What’s so bad about that?” He grinned. Luka held out the cigarette pack, and she placed the butt into the paper box.“I think one of them was about partying.”

“And sex.”

“But they were good.”

“I can admit that you are a good musician. And I do enjoy the songs about us.”

Luka leaned in close to her, “Telling me you want something from me?”

“You wish.” She rolled her eyes. “I just like songs about myself.” 

He stepped back from her. “That’s a little egotistical of you, Mari.” 

“Don’t care. They sound good and it feels good to know that you liked what I did to you.” 

Luka started humming a tune, one she recognized well as one of his band's more popular songs. It was upbeat and gruff, kind like him. He sang out the chorus, bringing his face close to her own. 

“I said hey ‘Why you sticking around?’ I got your lipstick smeared and your clothes on the ground. And I said hey ‘I gotta confess that I got nowhere to be’. You're such a beautiful mess.  
She said ‘Oh, ever since I met you, all I do is think about sex’.”  
“That girl sounds more like you. I think I remember you saying something similar to me.” 

“What would you say if I said that I would still say that to you, if you wouldn’t elbow me in the balls if I did.”

“I’d say that you haven’t changed one bit, snake.” 

Marinette hopped off the rail and disappeared below deck, heading for the kitchen. Her stomach rumbled as she dug through the refrigerator and pantry. She grabbed a beer and popped the tab open, taking a long swig, before pulling out a block of cheese, butter, and spinach, grabbing a loaf of bread from above the fridge. She placed the buttered bread into a pan and sliced a couple chunks of the cheese off and layered it with the spinach, placing the other slice on the pile. 

Luka sat on the other side of the small island, pulling out his acoustic guitar. He strummed and plucked at the strings, humming to himself. She made both of them a grilled cheese as she listened to him play. He never sang, only strummed and plucked. 

“That isn’t something I’ve heard before.” Marinette mused, sinking her teeth into crunchy bread and gooey cheese. 

“It’s something new I’ve been working on. A little bit sadder than some of our popular stuff.” 

“Trying to bank on that depressed musician look to make some more fans?” She teased. 

“Let’s say that a pretty girl ended up boeing the muse for more than our sex life. I should really thank her for helping, maybe name check her in one of them so she gets the recognition she deserves.” He cocked a dark brow at her.

“You better fucking not.” 

When they finished eating, he looked her in the eye, and began to sing. 

“You’re the pretty one. I could tell that from the start. Skipping class just to see your face. It warmed my cold heart.”

It was a soft guitar and melody, a little sad, if she were honest. He wasn’t wrong about that. 

“Try to run away, every single day. But now your leash is tighter, choking you til you can't breathe. How could I fuck up this bad you were the best that I had.” 

It hurt her heart a little to hear the sad song and how she knew it was about her, but she also knew that no simple song would change how she felt or change her. She also knew Luka would never want that. She could hear in his voice how much he put emotion into this new song and probably sharing it with her before anyone else. 

“I'm the silly one. Thought I could have you all to myself. But bleeding eyes want something more than some musician crybaby.” 

She swayed along to his deep voice and melancholy lyrics. It wasn’t the type of song to get her in the mood for the party, or into bed, but his voice had always sent shivers down her spine. It wasn’t perfectly manicured like a pop artist or scratchy and raw like punk, it rode that line in between, feeling natural and beautiful at the same time.

“Maybe if I thought this out I could be with you now, trying to conversate when every time you shoot me down. Try to run away every single day. But now your leash is tighter, choking you til you can't breathe.”

When the song ended, Marinette caught Luka’s grey gaze searing into her. She opened her mouth, as if to speak, but no words came to the front of her tongue, so she ended up shutting it tightly and setting her jaw. She rounded the counter, cupping Luka’s cheek in her palm. He nuzzled into her hand, resting the guitar on his lap. Her fingers ran over the sharp prickles of stubble as she took in the cloudy gaze that refused to leave her own.

“It’s a beautiful song. I don’t know why anyone wouldn’t love it.”

“It wasn’t wrong, though. I wasn’t wrong. You could never belong to any one man, Mari. You’d choke on that type of leash.”

“Maybe you’re right. It’s hard to say.” 

“It’s easier for me to think that you could never commit yourself, and that you would keep running from a relationship and happiness than to think it was me.”

She chuckled, a sober sound. “It was never you. I just can’t be what you want. And I couldn’t be your girlfriend when we tried.”

He shot her a smirk, cutting through the tension, and warming the space between them immensely, “Well the other songs weren’t wrong. I wouldn’t mind if you got naked and took a ride on me--”

“Ugh, please stop being disgusting, Luka, Dupain-Cheng. I thought we were here to party, not watch whatever that is.” Chloe hopped onto the boat with her blond ponytail swinging behind her and a classic scowl on her beautiful features. Kagami followed on her heels. “If you’re going to play something, at least make it something with more energy and doesn’t make me fucking depressed.” 

“C’mon, babe, play nice.” Kagami gave Luka a soft smile. “It was a beautiful song, Luka. Even if we only caught the end of it.” She wrapped her arms around Chloe’s waist and rested her head in the crook of her neck and shoulder. 

“Luka,” Some of Luka’s other friends called from the upper deck. He rushed up to help them with the keg as the sun began to set. 

Marinette joined the boys on the top deck, plugging in Luka’s phone to the stereo system and beginning to blast music. The lights that hung from the boat’s haul and rafters began to glow as the night darkened and the party began to move into full swing. 

With a couple of bong hits and beers in her systems, Marinette was feeling light and free. She danced along to the music and even pulled Luka and some of his friends in to dance with her. Everything felt right. Everything felt good. But she did have to admit that something felt missing when she danced. The night continued onward. More people crashed onto the houseboat drunk and high and stoned. 

Marinette found Luka in the kitchen, rolling himself a blunt. She hopped up onto the kitchen counter next to where he rolled. Kagami and Chloe cuddled together on the opposite side of the island. Luka put the blunt in his mouth and lit it, taking a couple of hits before passing it to Marinette. She inhaled the smoke and took a couple of drags before passing it onto the happy couple. Luka saddled up between her thighs as he took his couple of hits on the blunt, leaning against the counter, with his back to her. He passed her the blunt over his shoulder. Luka ran his long fingers along the inside of her calf and over the tops of her thigh, rolling his head against the juncture of her neck and shoulder. 

She hummed along with the music as one of Luka’s band’s songs played on the speakers. It was one of her favorites, and wasn’t sung by Luka, but the female bassist that occasionally lended supporting vocals or sang or her song. As the chorus crept up, Marinette no longer hummed, full on singing along to the lyrics that she had memorized. 

“Are you trynna get me drunk? Are you trynna get me high? Are you trynna take me home?  
I'm just trynna have a good time. I'm just trynna have a good time. I don't give a fuck about your bad intentions. I've got the feels. I'm on another level, no inhibitions. I've got the feels.”

Marinette turned her head, rubbing her cheek against the top of Luka’s head. She tapped the beat of the song against his bicep and he played the guitar strings against her thigh. Her head buzzed with liquor and smoke, but she enjoyed the feeling, enjoying the high running through her systems and over her skin. 

Luka turned and caught Marinette’s jaw under his mouth. She automatically relaxed into the touch, into the feeling of his soft lips making a trail from her jaw to her mouth. She dipped her head as his mouth collided with her own. Marinette melted into the kiss, into the way his fingers gripped her thighs, thumbs running along the sensitive inner skin and sending chills down her spin. Her hands jumped to his dyed hair and pulled his mouth back to hers when they parted for a breath. 

She wanted him, even if she knew that she shouldn’t, that it would only end up getting him hurt more, but as his mouth traced the path from her mouth along her jaw and down her throat, suckling at her rapid pulse point, she didn’t care. Her hands moved from his hair and down his wide shoulders, tangling in the back of his shirt as she fisted it in her clenched hands, trying to pull him closer. There was too much space between them, she decided. Marinette let her hands travel down further, under the hem of his shirt, before dipped beneath the belted waistband of his jeans to grab his soft ass beneath his boxers.   
His hands slipped up her legs, underneath her skirt, to rest on her hips before yanking her towards the edge of the counter. She gasped, holding in the noise as she bit her lower lip, with the collision of hips against hips. Luka’s thumbs moved in lazy circles against the hem of her panties and along her hip bones.   
A sharp whistle cut through the fevered actions, causing Marinette to pull her hands out of the back of his pants. She shot a glare over his shoulder as Luka ignored the heckler and continued to nuzzle the side of her throat with his nose. 

“And here I was bringing something to liven up your party, Luk, but it seems like you found your own entertainment. Some nice entertainment by the looks of it.” 

Marinette shot him the middle finger. “What do you want, Theo?” 

“Luka said that if I was interested, I should bring something fun tonight.” 

“And what do you have?” Luka turned to face the drug dealer, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Theo pulled a small baggy out of his pocket, filled with a soft pink powder that sparkled under the LED lights of the inside of the houseboat. 

“Sugarbaby.” Marinette breathed. “I haven’t had any of that in a while.”

“Interested in having some, baby?”

She shoved Luka aside and hopped off the counter. Marinette strolled over to Theo with a soft smile on her face. She leaned towards him, before her hand sht ut and grabbed him by the balls, her nails digging into his family jewels through his sweatpants. Her smile turned into a sneer. “If you call me that again, be prepared to lose these.” She squeezed harder and all color drained from Theo’s face as he let out a soft squeak through thin lips. “How about you give me that baggy and I’ll let your boys go, unless you’d prefer to be castrated.” 

Theo shot Luka a pleading look. One that he only shrugged off. “Listen to her. She doesn’t kid around with causing pain to your precious balls. She got me with a jab to the dick the other night. I was sore the next day.” 

He slipped the baggy into her waiting hand, almost reluctantly. She gave one last squeeze before letting go and walking back to Luka. She leaned against his chest, pressing her ass against his softening erection. 

“Why do you let her anywhere near your cock, man?”

“Because I’m into cock and ball torture and she’s the best.” He shot her a foolish grin, his voice dripping with sarcasm and teasing. “Now, go have fun, Theo, before the party ends. Maybe even get some actual sales.” 

Marinette shook the baggy, examining the phosphorescent pink powder. She opened the seal. Her nose met with the scent of fake, manufactured sugar. Marinette licked her pointer finger and dipped it into the baggy before swiping the powder against the tops of her gums and under her tongue. The sweet drug didn’t take long to begin to thrum through her veins and synapses. It warmed beneath her skin and fogged her mind, but she felt like she could do anything as she placed more in her teeth. Marinette couldn’t remember when she had left the kitchen of the houseboat and made it to the top deck, nor when she ended up climbing ashore, nor could she remember what happened to Luka, but she also found herself not really caring as the high ebbed and flowed against her senses.

She stumbled along the river banks, swaying on the balls of her feet. Everything felt great beneath the half moon grinning down at her. Her mind shut off and euphoria taking away any worries, desires, loves, and hatreds. Marinette focused on the feel of cool pebbles and cobbled stone, unsure when she took off her shoes. The wind whipped through her hair and exposed skin, clinging to her. 

She found herself leaning against a wrought iron bridge; her toes hooked into the rafter like spaces as she hauled herself higher over the Seine. Marinette watched the water move across the river’s surface, body pitching forward. Her strong legs kept her from tumbling over the rail on instinct. 

“Jump.” A chill went down Marinette’s spine, threatening to interrupt her high. A voice she never forgot, and never would, but one she hoped she’d never hear again. “I dare you to jump, Marinette.” 

She laughed through her nose, “And why would I do that?” Her voice sounded foreign in her head, like it didn’t belong to her. The high ran along her nerves and veins and synapses, pulling her attention in and out and dragging a colorful haze over her mind. 

“Thought I would give you the option.” 

“Not interested.” 

He said something but she missed it as her mind was catching up with the sounds and her attention focuses back on his lilting voice.“...It’s been a hot second since we’ve seen each other. I thought maybe we could catch up.” 

“I’ve got nothing to say to you. You. You. Felix.” She pressed her palm to the side of her head, trying to steady the world around her from spinning beneath her, to get the fog out of her brain.

“So, you haven’t forgotten me.” For an Englishman, his french was always impeccable, not that she could understand much in her state. Maybe she was just hearing voices, she knew that could happen if she got too high. Maybe she was just too high. But she couldn’t be that lucky. 

“Go away. Just go the fuck away.” 

“But we’ve got so much to discuss, Marinette.” 

“No. Leave me alone.” 

Felix grabbed her hips and pulled her down from the metal rail, so her bare feet hit the cool wood of the bridge. Marinette shoved him away from her, holding her hands out in front of her. Her gaze focused on the sky above her as she watched the clouds pass over the moon, turning the night even darker except for the yellow bulbed street lights that lit the bridge and along either side of the river. 

“We are going to talk.” 

“What part of ‘go the fuck away’ don’t you get?”

He grabbed her wrists, holding them in his iron grip. Marinette continued to stare at the clouded over night sky, refusing to look at his face or his hands. She tugged at her hands. Felix refused to release them from his white knuckled grip.   
“You’re going to listen to me.”

“Maybe I should say it english. Maybe then it would get through to you.” She tried to find the words, but found them escaping her. English wasn’t her best class, and high she lost any recollection of the language. 

For a moment, she forgot how she had gotten out on the Seine and in the hands of one of the last people she ever wanted to see again, but her mind cleared and she turned her attention away from the sky. She avoided looking at his face, focusing on the smooth slick of his blond hair, or the slight scraping of blond stubble along his neck and jaw, or the suit, jacketless, that he wore, or the hard metal of the rings on his fingers surely bruising the sensitive skin on her wrists and digging into the small bones. Anything but the similar face that she let sweep her off her feet years ago. 

“I’ve been thinking about you, Marinette. I’ve been thinking about everything that we’ve been through and done together. All the fun times. And the bad, of course. How you hated me when we first met and I couldn’t stand you. You really got stuck in my head. I miss you.”

“I still hate you.” 

“Don’t you miss me a little? Miss what we had?”

“No.”

Her back pressed up against the cool, hard bar of the bridge’s rail. It dug into the small of her back as he pushed her harder into the immovable structure. His breath, smelling of mint and a row of perfect teeth to match, burned against her cheek. 

“You’re even more beautiful than ever.” 

“Let--let go of me--me.” 

Her body felt heavy pinned to the railing. It seemed to act against her, refusing to listen to her commands to move it, to get as far away from Felix as possible. Her heart leapt to her throat. The beat ran rapid against her eardrum as she took in shallow breaths. Everything about his body pressed against her brought back all the memories that she ran from, that she tried everything in her power to forget. The foreign feeling of his hands on her that she could still remember years after she got away from their probing touch, the bruises that they left on her skin. His hips as they had slammed against her own, pinning her and trapping her against expensive bed sheets. Bands constricted her chest as she tried to breathe. Her gut twisted and untwisted itself into complicated knots. 

The memory of his mouth on her’s, on the way it felt wrong and made her want to curl away from his kiss. Except this wasn’t a haunting memory. This was his mouth shoving its way against her own in that moment. Her body screamed against it. Her mind focused for a fraction of a moment as she slammed her heel on top of his foot. When he grunted and stepped back she jammed her knee up, landing in the soft spot between his legs. Felix let go of her, doubling over in pain. Her fingers threaded through his hair as she connected her knee with his nose. Felix collapsed to the floor of the bridge, holding his groin in one hand and his nose, gushing bright red blood, in the other.

“Don’t ever fucking touch me again.” Marinette hissed. 

She took off into a sprint down the bridge and only the cement along the Seine. Marinette looked down at herself; her shirt half unbuttoned and skirt yanked low on her hips. She readjusted her clothes, trying to regain control over her racing mind, wishing the high away as she fumbled her way back to her parent’s bakery. 

Marinette wasn’t sure how she ended up in her bedroom. Only that she was racing to the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her and locking it. She doubled over the toilet, losing the contents of her stomach to the bowl. When only stomach acid came up her throat, her stomach calmed down, and she sat back, spine pressed against the wall and legs on either side of the toilet. Marinette wanted to cry, tears burning the back of her eyes, but they refused to flow. Her skin felt hot, filthy with sweat and touch that she needed to get off of it. She turned on the shower and striped out of her clothes.   
The water poured over her skin, hot enough to burn away the feel of his hands, and the memory of them, from her skin. She scrubbed herself down twice and ran shampoo through her hair before sinking down into a crouch, pulling her knees in tight to her chest. Her memories played traitorously against the back of her eyelids. She dug her fingernails into her biceps as she pulled herself in tighter around, trying to get the images and thoughts from playing over and over. Marinette hated everything, hated the silken noose that tightened itself around her throat, how she had let him get that close to her again after she promised herself she never would, but most importantly she hated Felix Graham de Vanily.   
Only when she pulled herself out of the shower, long after Marinette had run out of hot water, and tossed on pajamas and crawled into bed, did her body let her cry. She sunk into the pink comforter and let herself sob through the painful memories and from the come down of her high until she passed out from exhaustion.


End file.
